


Running On Empty

by lovetvfan



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 66,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetvfan/pseuds/lovetvfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After killing Angel to save the world, Buffy flees Sunnydale. Only instead of going to L.A., she goes to Seacouver. There she meets a mysterious older man named Adam Pierson, who seems to think she is more than just a slayer...</p><p>Not Mine. Don't sue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Avoiding Confrontation

The bus station was noisy, crowded and incredibly large. It was the perfect place for a parent to accidentally lose a child if they didn't keep a close enough watch and public enough for an immortal to hide from a foe without fear of being challenged...for a little while anyway.

Adam Pierson, an immortal known only to a few close friends as Methos, had counted on this very advantage, as he was presently hiding behind a pillar, hoping the immortal that followed him in there would tire of the game in short order. It hadn't happened so far however, and didn't look too likely to. He had been standing behind the pillar for about four hours now and the man who had followed him in hadn't budged from the exit in which he stood, waiting for Methos to give up and attempt to leave. They were at a standoff.

It wasn't as if Methos was a coward. He had no qualms about taking a head if there were no other option. Rather, Methos was a survivalist and the first rule of survival was don't let men with sharp swords attempt to chop off your head, no matter how good you are. He had survived this long in the game simply by avoiding as many conflicts as humanly possible. The man looked as if he would be fairly easy to defeat, but Methos was not the type to gamble.

Having survived over five thousand years, Methos had an infinite amount of patience. He could wait in this bus station for days and days before he even began to become bored. He doubted the younger man possessed the same ability. The young were known for their impatience...and their stupidity. Look at that Richie Ryan kid that always followed MacLeod around.

Methos checked his watch and gave a small, taunting wave to the immortal watching him. It would be nightfall soon, and Methos' best chance of sneaking away unseen would be when the other immortal got tired enough to fall asleep. Methos had perfected the art of staying awake, sometimes for weeks at a time, but it was a skill that had taken him centuries of practice and he felt certain the younger man didn't possess it.

Sighing, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar that he had bought earlier. He had only just begun to eat it, when the familiar buzz of a fellow immortal hit him full force. At first he just assumed that the man who was pursuing him had moved close enough for the buzz to reach him once more, but upon looking to where he was, he saw the man hadn't moved. Instead, he noted that the other immortal had also noticed it.

Great! He thought angrily, was there a convention or something I wasn't informed of? Looking towards the source of the buzz, he saw it come from a bus that just pulled into the station. Passengers were filing off of it now, and Methos knew any minute he would see the immortal in question exit the coach.

Sure enough the offending party exited next, but the sight of this particular immortal startled Methos slightly. It was a young girl, no more than seventeen years of age. She was small in stature and strikingly pretty, even to one such as Methos who had been in the presence of many incredible beauties over the centuries. What he noticed most however, was the look of intense pain written over every inch of her expressive face. She wore baggy, unflattering jeans and a nondescript black sweater and carried only a small bag with her, leading Methos to guess that she was running away from something.

The freshness of her buzz told him she was new to the game. Perhaps very new. There was a strangeness to it, that gave him pause. She's probably fleeing her previous life. Doesn't understand how she died, or came back. Poor girl. He was surprised at the pity he felt for her. Looking at the immortal that had followed him into the bus station, he noticed the same realization of newness dawn on his face as well. It was then he realized what the other man now had in mind. She won't have time to enjoy her new life either if he decides to corner her instead of me.

The other immortal began to advance towards the girl. She barely even noticed him, although he could tell the feeling of the immortal buzz had affected her. She looked shaken and nervous, but unsure as to why. The other immortal no longer even looked his way, his sights fixed entirely on the young girl as she headed towards the exit.

Methos knew that he should take this as a sign of good fortune. After all, he had only to slip away while the other immortal took the girl's head and he could be home in time to catch the game on satellite and drink a nice cold beer he remembered resided in his fridge. It would be of no great loss to him if she died. Why should it be? One less immortal to worry about when it came down to it. He didn't know her, and yet something gnawed at him at the idea of simply leaving her to die.

I've lived this long by not caring about anybody but myself, why start now? But even as he thought this, he knew they weren't true. He may have buried his conscience from time to time, but it was never gone. And he knew that the resurfacing of said highly annoying conscience had to do with that damned self righteous Scotsman MacLeod. Somehow, despite Methos' better judgment, he found the man's inherent goodness rubbing off on him. It ticked him off supremely, but he had long since given up trying to fight it. Time was, he would have been long gone at the first opportunity. Instead, he remained in the bus station, carefully following both the young girl and the man who stalked her, intending against his better wishes, to interfere in the fight. She's only a child, he reasoned, I can't let her die.

The girl did not make things better for herself. Instead of exiting the station onto a public street, she opted to take the back ally way behind the station leaving her far from any public interference and a prime target for the other immortal. Methos managed to stay far enough away from the other man so as not to alert him or her of his presence via the buzz. Being over five thousand years old had given him time to learn many things, including just how close one could get to another immortal without alerting them. It had been difficult, and varied from immortal to immortal but had been an incredibly useful skill over the years, both for hiding from perspective challenges and working with the watcher's council.

Once the two of them were deep inside the ally way, Methos watched the other immortal ready himself to make his presence known. The girl turned first however, and stared at him with fixed angry eyes.

"You wanna tell me why you've been following me, or shall I let my fists guess?"

"I am here to challenge you," the man said simply. He removed his sword and held it high for the girl to see. Strangely, she did not appear shocked or frightened by the weapon, but rather intensely repulsed as if it were an animal that would bite at any moment.

"I've seen enough swords to last me a lifetime thanks." She said softly. Methos could see the tears in her eyes, even from his vantage point. He bided his time.

"You think that matters child? You know the rules. I've challenged you. You have to fight."

"Excuse me?" She said, shaking off the emotion attached to the sight of the weapon for the moment and taking offense to his tone instead. Her eyes narrowed and she instinctively shuffled her feet into a battle stance. "I don't think you want to fight me. You're human right? Go home."

"Wrong child," the man said with a grin. "Fighting is exactly what I want to do. I want your head. You can either defend yourself, or die. It's up to you."

Realizing this was the perfect time to show himself, Methos stepped forth into the ally way, hands in his pockets and his face as neutral and unfazed as possible. He looked positively bored.

"That's rather unfair, isn't it?" He said, addressing the other immortal. "I mean, you and I can both clearly see she is new to this. She has no clue what she is, much less what the game is."

"This doesn't concern you," the other immortal growled. The girl looked at Methos in surprise and wariness, but not outward hostility...yet.

"Well, actually it does." Methos replied, smiling pleasantly. "You see, if I'm not mistaken, your challenge was originally for me. Call it vanity, but I take offense to you preferring this child's head over mine. You hurt my feelings and that makes me angry."

"My challenge was for the girl." The man maintained. "She must accept."

"Look buddy I don't know who you are," the girl was speaking to Methos now, "but I can handle myself. Cut the Knight in shining armor crap, and get out of here before you get yourself killed."

"You think you can take him on yourself little girl?" Methos scoffed. She glared at him and balled her fists. Methos nearly laughed out loud at the petite blonde in front of him. She looked so cute.

"I think the next person who calls me child or little girl is going to find out what I can really do." She muttered darkly. Looking towards the man who had challenged her, she set her bags down, removed her coat and assumed a fighting stance. "You wanna fight? Fine, but lose the weapon OK?"

"Ahh, but the sword is integral to the duel." The other immortal replied. "The only way to determine the winner is to sever the head of the loser."

"And that can't be done with fists." Methos put in sarcastically. He sighed. "For the last time, please fight me instead. I promise to make the battle worth your while. She will be a moment's entertainment and nothing more."

"After I take her head, I shall take you up on the offer." The immortal agreed with a nod. "Alright if you don't have a sword than that is not my fault. I challenged you and you must accept."

With no more preamble, he lunged.


	2. Not A Killer

The girl fought with incredible competence, despite her lack of a weapon. She had a grace and agility about her, that most centuries-old immortals had yet to acquire. He watched, spellbound as she avoided the deadly swish of the other immortal's sword with an uncanny skill that bordered on the preternatural. And yet...she was new to immortality. He could feel it. A new immortal's buzz was so distinct it could never be mistaken, especially not for one as experienced as he.

It was then it began to dawn on him. He watched her fight and everything started to click into place. Her youth, her strength, her grace and skill...how had he not realized it before? Slayer! His mind screamed at him. It had been so long since he had seen one, so long since he had watched a slayer fight.

His entire being was suddenly on full alert, humming with a mix of anxiety and emotion over this discovery. He had promised himself he would never seek out a slayer again, never involve himself in that world and yet here he was...and there she was. A slayer. And an immortal? He shook his head. No, that couldn't be right. She couldn't be both slayer and immortal...it was impossible. Wasn't it?

In his unnaturally long lifetime he had seen many unbelievable things. He had seen many slayers, and many vampires. He had seen slayers turned into vampires, though it was rare. Usually the change drove the slayer insane causing their normally finely tuned slayer abilities to become clumsy and awkward. Their succeeding slayer tended to take them out in short order. He'd never seen a slayer who had died and become immortal though. To his knowledge and experience it wasn't possible.

One slayer dies, the next one's called. That was the legend wasn't it? If the slayer were immortal there would be no one to succeed her. It would end the line permanently. Either that, or a new slayer would be called every time she died and came back. Both options altered the slayer legacy irrevocably. Methos had trouble wrapping his mind around the thought.

Walk away, his brain ordered him. She can handle herself, you know she can! There's no need for you to be here. He knew this much was true. Be it slayer or immortal, or both, she could clearly handle herself in combat and was in no need of his assistance. At least not for the fight. If the other immortal had been older, he might have presented a challenge, but this one was far too young and far too stupid.

Then why are you still here? His mind asked again. You can see she doesn't need you. Spare yourself the pain. He was about to listen to the inner voice, but something in him hesitated.

If she is an immortal, she's new. He reasoned with himself. And if she's an immortal slayer...well this is something the council should know about. She will need help. I can't walk away. And Methos knew this part of his brain was right. However much he wanted to, he was in this too deep to just leave her, no matter how competent she was.

"Hey you there in the coat!" The girl's voice startled him out of his thoughts and drew his attention back to the fight at hand. She had managed to knock the immortal's sword from his hand and was motioning between kicks and punches for Methos to pick it up. It was clear she wanted him to throw it to her, but remembering the look he had seen on her face earlier, he wasn't sure it was a good idea.

"To hell with the rules." He muttered, sick of the entire ordeal. Bending over, he swiftly retrieved the sword and as soon as he saw an opening, grabbed the immortal and ran him through. He hoped that it was enough to keep the immortal dead until he could fully explain to the young slayer/immortal what had truly happened. If he took the quickening right away, she would surely run from him and it was very likely he'd never see her again.

He slumped to the ground in front of the girl, dead for the time being, though Methos was conscious that he was on a time frame in that respect. Looking up, he was faced with the young slayer's eyes, full of horror and revulsion over what it appeared he had just done.

"You...you killed him." She whispered softly. Her petite frame had begun to tremble as she stared at the sword he still held with a mixture of fear and anguish.

"I know it appears that way, but it's not what it seems." He spoke calmly, attempting to ease her distress. He had been told in the past that some found his voice soothing. Clearly this young girl was not one of those people.

"Oh no? He's not dead then?" Her voice was higher in pitch now, bordering on the hysterical.

"Not really." He was getting impatient now, distracted by the naked pain he could see written all over her expressive features. "Besides, he was attacking you, so I wouldn't expect you to weep overly much even if..."

"I am NOT a killer!" The words left her mouth with startling ferocity. She stared once again at the bloody sword, her eyes glittering with emotions he couldn't define. For a moment, it was as if she was in another world, remembering another life. Then, quickly as she had gone, she shook her head and glared once more at him before speaking. "Not anymore."

With those words, he watched as she bolted away from him and the dead immortal into the night.

"Wait!" Methos called out, realizing it was futile even as he did so. Anger bubbled up inside of him as he looked down at the dead immortal and realized a choice had to be made. Kill him, take the quickening and go home and forget about everything he had seen, or let him live, chase the slayer and get himself even further involved in something that was only going to hurt him in the end. He swore in Latin before dropping the sword belonging to the other immortal and taking off after the slayer.


	3. Buffy vs. Methos

Buffy Summers ran until it felt like her lungs would burst. She couldn't believe after all that had happened to her what she had just been forced to see. Another man, run through with a sword, right through the heart. She hadn't known him, and granted he was trying to kill her, but even still the sight of it made her almost physically sick. He had the same surprised expression on his face that her Angel did when she had killed him. It had just been too much. She wanted out. She didn't want to be a slayer anymore. All it had brought her was pain. She had thought that by getting on a bus and getting out of Sunnydale she could escape it, but it seemed everywhere she went it followed her.

And that man, that horrible man. Who was he? Why had he forced her to see that again? Did he really think killing the other man would make her happy? Before she had killed Angel would it have?

He had said he was trying to help her, but for some reason she had difficulty believing that. Whenever he got close to her, she felt a strange buzzing sensation, almost like her slayer's ability to sense vampires. Only this one was multiplied almost to the point where she could hear it. Who was he? What was he?

Any other time, she would have reported the mysterious man to Giles, he would have researched him, found out his secrets and Buffy would have fought him. Now she was on her own and all she wanted was to get far away from anyone and anything connected with her past.

She was about to turn and head for a hotel she could see in the distance, when she felt it again...that strange buzzing noise she had felt before. Looking behind her, she saw the man in the trench coat, running to catch up to her. Her heart froze in her throat when she saw the determined look in his eyes. If she ran, he would catch her, she knew that for sure. Instead, she steadied herself and stood her ground.

As soon as he came within reach of her, she swung her right leg up, executing a perfect kick to the face. The man reeled back, obviously stunned at her action and gingerly touched his now bleeding nose.

"Bloody hell! What was that about?" He sounded genuinely surprised that she had hit him.

"You kill a man and you just expect me to let you come after me too?" She raised her fists. "I'm not that easy to take down buddy."

"I'm not trying to fight you," the man replied with restrained anger. "I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" She exclaimed incredulously. "Sorry, but helping to kill people is not the kind of help I need thanks."

"If you'd just listen to me for three seconds so I can explain to you, that man isn't dead." The man was glaring at her now, his soft welsh accent carried a sharp edge to it. His patience was wearing thin.

"Oh no? I suppose anybody could survive a sword through the heart then!" She swallowed hard as she spoke, not wanting to dredge up that awful image of Angel once more. "He's just sleeping then is he?"

"He's not a person...at least not in the sense of a normal person." The man paused, clearly trying to think of a proper way to articulate himself. "He's an immortal. They are...a breed apart from humans. You can kill them countless times and they will only get right back up. The only way to truly ever kill them is to cut off their head."

"And you expect me to believe you...why?" She was stalling now, but she didn't want to believe this man, even though she could see nothing but honesty in his eyes.

"Come on slayer, you can believe in vampires but immortals are out of the realm of possibility? I know you're not that stupid, so perhaps you are just naïve."

"I am not naïve." She snapped, bristling at his comment. "And how the hell did you know I was the slayer?"

"I would know you anywhere." He said quietly. For a moment she glimpsed something deep and indefinable in his eyes. He looked back to her. "It's in everything you do. If that immortal were a bit older, he would have known better than to challenge you."

"Why did he?" She wondered, no longer on her guard. If he had wanted to harm her, he would have done so already. "You said these immortals can kill each other by cutting off their heads, yet...he challenged me. I'm not an immortal."

"Aren't you?" He stepped forward and glanced at her with his piercing green eyes. "Tell me slayer, did you die recently?"

"A year ago," she croaked, her eyes widening in fear at the prospect of what he was telling her. "But my friend gave me CPR and saved me. I was only gone for like...a minute."

"It was enough. That was your first death." The man told her gently. "You are an immortal."

She shook her head violently, refusing to believe what he was telling her. It couldn't be true. On top of everything else, she couldn't be...no. He was wrong!

"I'm not immortal and I'm not the slayer. You've got the wrong girl."

"So you didn't feel anything when I approached you then?" He retorted. "No humming in your body, no acute awareness of my presence. I'm immortal too slayer, we can sense each other."

"Get away from me." She growled, unable to process anything else. "I don't want to be whatever it is you say I am. Just get away from me."

"I can't do that." He replied somberly. "I don't know what it is you are running from, but you won't get far without my help. This is something that has never happened before and you have no idea of the consequences that could result from..."

"Consequences?" She exclaimed, suddenly furious with this stranger. "What the hell do you know about consequences? Cause me...I know a lot, and I'm out, I've had it! I can't do it anymore. So just go away and leave me in peace. I can't be an immortal and I can't be the slayer."

"You don't have a choice!" The man yelled back, the thin thread of tolerance finally snapping. "I don't care what you've gone through slayer, but you will not walk away from me. There is more at stake here than your aversion to responsibility."

"You think you can stop me?" She challenged. He blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"From walking away from here." She clarified. "You think you can stop me? You think you're strong enough to defeat the slayer?"

"You don't want to get into this contest with me child." The man warned. His voice shifted to a silky, dangerous growl that made her shiver despite herself. "You may be the slayer, but right now you are weak. Emotion has crippled you. Whatever happened to you has made you ineffective. At your best, you would have presented a mild challenge. Right now...well, you would be all too easy."

"You are far too impressed with yourself." She shot back with false bravado. "Look, the only way you are taking me is unconscious, so if you really think I'd be that easy let's put it to the test." She positioned herself for a fight and watched with sinking heart as the man sighed in resignation and prepared his attack.

She was stronger than him, but he was by far the better fighter. Within a few brief exchanges she was on her back and his foot was on her chest, shoving her into the ground.

"If unconscious is how you want it," the man said with a grin as he raised the but of his sword and aimed it at her head. "Then unconscious is how you'll get it."

And then her world went black.


	4. Bondage Fun

The girl awoke in fairly short order, but Methos had expected that due to both her slayer and immortal nature. He'd known she would wake up angry, so he'd taken the necessary precautions and tied her down to his bed in a way the ensured even her slayer strength would not be able to break her out. He had to make her understand.

He sat down next to her as her eyes opened slowly and smiled what he hoped was a friendly smile to put her at ease. It must not have worked because the first thing she did was glare at him. The second thing she did was try to get up. When she found herself unable to, she looked down at her hands and groaned in sheer frustration. Methos suppressed a smile.

"I cannot believe you managed to tie me down." She exclaimed, tugging once more at her restraints.

"It's metal construction cable," he told her mildly. "You won't be able to break it, even with your strength so you might as well hear me out."

"What, so you can tell me again that I'm an immortal? Go ahead, you can say it till your blue in the face. I don't have to listen to you, or believe you."

"You are the most aggravating slayer I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." He growled. "Didn't your watcher teach you obedience and good manners?"

"He tried," she retorted. "It didn't take. Look, what do you want from me?"

"You really aren't very bright you know that?" Methos exclaimed. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out his trusty Ivanhoe and positioned it at the base of her neck. "I could take your head here and now. It would sure save me a lot of trouble."

"Go ahead." She told him quietly. Methos was surprised at the complete lack of fear in her eyes as she stared at the sword just barely touching her neck. If he didn't know any better, he would think she almost welcomed the idea. What happened to her?

"I'm not going to kill you." He told her finally putting the sword away. "I just want you to realize that the term immortal is a lie. Cutting your head off will kill you permanently and not every immortal you meet will be as nice as I am. Most will try to take your head for the power of the Quickening."

"People will start trying to kill me because I'm powerful?" She exclaimed in a tone laced with sarcasm. "Gee, I wonder what that would be like! And since when did knocking me out, kidnapping me and tying me to your bed qualify you for the nice guy column? Look thanks for the warning, but I can handle myself. I have for a long time now."

"You died once." He pointed out. She grimaced.

"It was a prophecy thing," she shot back. "I didn't have a choice."

"Yea, well you don't have a choice but to listen to me either, so you might as well get comfortable." He stood up and headed towards the kitchen to grab himself a beer before continuing. "What is your name anyway?"

"Bu...", she paused and finished with, "Anne. My name is Anne."

"Pleased to meet you Anne." He said pleasantly. He didn't bother to contradict her on what was obviously not really her name. It didn't matter to him what she called herself. And he wasn't exactly Mr. Forthcoming in that department either. "I'm Adam Pierson."

"And you're an immortal." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. "How old are you?"

"Old," he replied shortly. "Old enough to be able to teach you what it's like...to show you how to use a sword."

"I know how to use a sword." She told him darkly. "And I won't ever be using one again."

"Look, Anne I don't know what happened to you." He admitted sitting down and attempting to reason with her. "I can see that whatever you have gone through has been rough, but you have to understand that you aren't just a new immortal. You're the slayer and as far as I know, no slayer has ever been an immortal before. Don't you see? Something has gone terribly wrong. This could impact both the immortal and slayer world pretty seriously. I need your co-operation to figure out how this happened."

"Can it be fixed?" She asked, suddenly sounding every bit the seventeen year old child that she was. "Can you find a way to make me not immortal?"

"This isn't a disease Anne." He told her gently. "And no, there is no cure. But I can help you live with it. If you'll let me."

"Look, I'd love to help you figure this out, but I'm sort of laying low from the Watcher's Council." She looked away from him as she spoke. "I ran away, and I can't go back. If you tell them what happened they'll know where I am."

"The immortal branch and the slayer branch of the Watcher's Council are very separate." Methos assured her. "They almost never have any contact with one another. Most watchers don't know the other council even exists. I promise you that whatever you are running from, you won't be found here. You can trust me on that."

"I believe you." She said quietly. She tugged once more on her restraints. "Look I think we're beyond the fun with bondage part of our relationship don't you? Can you let me up now?"

"You promise not to try to kill me?" He asked, only half teasing. She smiled.

"You're safe from my wrath for now I suppose." She replied. "Tie me up again though and we're going to have a problem."

"Deal," Methos agreed as he began to untie her. "Now, we'll start with me telling you all about immortality, starting with the Quickening."


	5. Reflections

Buffy changed her clothes slowly in Adam's bedroom the next day, still feeling the urge to run, despite his promise not to turn her into the Watcher's Council. At the moment, the only thing really keeping her there, was Adam's offer to give her somewhere to sleep while he figured out how she had become both slayer and immortal. She didn't really have anywhere else to go, so she had no choice but to accept the offer. He had told her all there was to know about immortality and the Game. He had even told her that although he was immortal (and therefore not supposed to know of the Council), he had somehow managed to get in, posing as a Watcher in order to hide from other immortals. Buffy had a feeling that Adam Pierson wasn't his real name, but didn't bother questioning him about it. After all, she hadn't been terribly honest herself.

He appeared to be a man in his mid thirties, but knew that to be merely an illusion. He had told her he was fairly old, even by immortal standards. It didn't really phase her. She was used to being around beings that had centuries on her in the age department. Angel had been two centuries her senior after all.

Angel. The name brought a flood of emotions to the surface that she fought to bury. She had to forget him. Had to forget Sunnydale, and everything about her old life. There was nothing for her there. Angel was dead at her hand, she had been expelled from school and her mom couldn't handle having her as a daughter. She had made that clear when she told her never to come back. She should have known her freak status was too much for her.

Here she could start over again. She could be Anne Sommerville, a young runaway with no past. Adam didn't seem to care who she was, or wasn't. She didn't even mind so much being an immortal anymore, though she vowed to him never to pick up a sword in combat again. She'd find other ways to fight if challenged. It was just too hard. He seemed to accept that for now, but she had a feeling he wouldn't give up on the subject. To be honest, she kind of liked that he wasn't willing to.

She thought about the man who had managed to best her in physical combat and smiled a moment. He was tall and lanky, bordering on skinny but no unattractively so. His bulky sweaters and tight jeans made an intriguing contrast and one Buffy found to be awfully pleasant on the eyes. And speaking of eyes, the man had the most amazing green eyes she had ever seen. He had an aristocratic face, and yet somehow managed to look average rather than snobbish. In short, he was an incredibly striking man...and that accent...oooh boy.

She shook her head, unable to believe she was able to find another man attractive, so soon after killing Angel. She hated herself for it. Not only had she betrayed the only man she had ever loved in the worst way imaginable, not even two days later she was thinking about someone else. What kind of person was she? Concentrating hard, she managed to conjure up an image of Angel's face and suddenly felt both comforted and pained by it. He must hate her so much right now. He had trusted her and because of that he would suffer for all eternity. If only it could be her in hell...it should be her.

"Angel, what have I done? What am I doing?" She whispered the words to nobody, and yet some part of her expected him to answer. It was like she could still feel him, deep down inside of her, where it mattered most.

"Anne?" Adam was calling to her from the other side of the door. "Are you ready to go? Joe and the others are anxious to meet you."

Joe Dawson he had told her was a Watcher, who also owned a Blues Bar in the city. His immortal Duncan MacLeod was a good friend of Adam's and they often spent time there. Apparently Joe Dawson had broken his Watcher's oath and befriended Duncan, despite it being completely forbidden. Buffy felt slightly comforted in the fact that this Joe Dawson didn't sound like the type who would turn her in. Clearly he found the rules of the council subjective, valuing the bigger picture and the lives of his friends more than an oath. She could respect that. She could understand that. She wondered if he was British like Giles.

Joe Dawson was a field man, so Duncan MacLeod had started out as his assignment. Adam however, was merely a researcher and didn't follow immortals around for a living. He had explained to her that it was an excellent hiding place, as the hours were long, and he was often secluded among books rather than people. It also gave him access to the Watcher's database, so he could keep abreast of what immortals were in town and when to avoid them.

"I'll be right out," she called back, taking one more look at herself in the mirror before exiting the room. She was nervous about meeting Adam's friends. What if they took one look at her, decided she was just a child that needed to go home, and gave away her whereabouts? She didn't think that would happen, and Adam had assured it wouldn't, but the fear was still there. And who was this Duncan MacLeod? Adam had made a few references to his power and reputation, but they hadn't all been flattering.

"You look good." Adam told her in a simple tone. She wasn't even sure if it were a compliment, but she smiled anyway.

"You sure they aren't going to check my I.D.?" She asked him. "I mean, you said this was a bar..."

"Joe is a friend of mine, and he understands that in his line of work, age can be deceiving. Some people live outside the rules Anne. He knows that."

She didn't say anymore, but rather followed him out to his Range Rover and got in. They were silent on the way to Joes, both lost in their own thoughts. Buffy managed to sneak a few looks in Adam's direction, wondering what had possessed him to bother caring what happened to her. She got the feeling he wasn't the type of man to involve himself in things lightly, especially if there were a possibility they might pose a danger to him personally.

"We're here," he said as they pulled into the parking lot of a small, but friendly looking Tavern that blinked the word 'Joe's'. Buffy gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and followed Adam inside.


	6. Eat At Joe's

Methos was relieved to see that Joe, Duncan and Richie were already in the bar when he and Anne arrived. He had called Joe before and informed him of the slayer/immortal problem, but Joe hadn't been sure if he would be able to get a hold of Duncan. Methos was hoping that Duncan would agree to train the girl with a sword. Even though she protested it now, he knew eventually he would be able to convince her of its necessity and when he did, he felt Duncan would make the better teacher. He had more patience than Methos, and truthfully Methos felt he was already more involved than he cared to be.

He hadn't invited Richie, but didn't really mind the young man's presence. In a room full of older people, Anne would likely feel quite intimidated, despite the bravery he knew she possessed. The kid would help her feel more comfortable if nothing else.

He looked over at the girl and saw her smiling a thin lipped smile, that told Methos she was nervous. Part of him wanted to reach over and squeeze her hand in reassurance, but he refrained. She's a slayer, he reminded himself, and far too young. You're not here to make friends. That can get too painful. Don't forget that. Not that he could. Slayers were a breed apart from any type of person he had ever known, immortal and human. They tended to live, and die young, but usually possessed a maturity that was centuries old. It was something each slayer possessed, something that couldn't be hidden to those who knew where to look. Their eyes were like windows into centuries past, holding wisdom and emotional strength that most thousand year old immortals never acquired. She may look it, but she's far from young. He thought to himself. Poor girl.

"Joe!" He called out, trying to keep from letting his brain go down that path. It was easier to avoid pain, if you didn't allow yourself to dwell on it.

"Hey Adam," Joe called back in response. He checked his watch. "We were beginning to wonder if you and your girl would show. There's been beer here for at least an hour and a half. It's beginning to wonder where you are. You feeling OK?"

"Joe thinks he's funny," Methos told Anne with a small smile. "I would like you to meet Anne Sommerville. Anne, meet Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod and Richie Ryan."

"Hey nice to meet you!" Richie exclaimed, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he took in the slayer. Idiot kid. Methos thought. He jumped up, and offered her hand which she shook, her timidity being slowly replaced with warmth.

"A pleasure," Duncan added with his usual charming air and friendly smile. Methos was mildly surprised that the girl didn't swoon automatically at the sight of the handsome Scot...most did, although from what he had seen of this girl, romance seemed to be the last thing on her mind.

"Adam tells us you are the slayer?" Joe posed it as a question, but everyone knew that was indeed what Methos had told them. Anne nodded.

"Since I was fifteen."

"And an immortal?" Duncan sounded skeptical.

"You felt the buzz," Methos pointed out to him. Duncan nodded, but still looked curious.

"You really fight vampires?" Richie asked eagerly. To him they had always been fantastical creatures in stories, not something real. Methos had to constantly remind himself that not everyone knew of the existence of such things, even in the immortal world.

"Used to," she told them with another forced smile. "I...uh, I don't slay anymore. I'm finished."

"I wasn't aware you could just...quit." Joe said in genuine puzzlement. "I thought that slayers were slayers until they..."

"Died?" Anne cut in testily. "Yea, well I've changed that rule OK? I took off. Adam said you won't turn me in, but if you do plan on it, could you do me the courtesy of letting me know so I can get a decent head start? I'm not going back."

"Nobody is going to make you go back to anything you don't want to," Duncan reassured her. She seemed calmed by his tone and his smile which bothered Methos slightly. How was it the Scot was able to get to people like that? "We're just curious. I don't know much about slayers."

"Yea, well I know a bit." Joe told them frowning slightly. "I have my theories on how this happened, but you'll have to let me keep 'em to myself till I have something a little more concrete. In the meantime Anne, sit down and have a drink on the house. Whatever you want. Enjoy some blues. If Adam asks you to play cards with him though, be careful. He cheats."

"I do not!" Methos replied, offended not that Joe had been telling the truth about him cheating, but that he had been careless enough to allow Joe to notice it. Rotten observant Watcher! Way too good at his job if you ask me.

Anne smiled, significantly reassured and took a seat next to Richie, who proceeded to start an animated conversation. Duncan shot a meaningful look in Methos' direction letting him know that a talk would be had when they had an opportunity. Why do I feel like I'm being sent to the Principal's Office whenever he looks at me like that?


	7. A New Friend

"How did you meet Adam?" Richie was asking Buffy a little later on that night. Adam, Duncan and Joe had retreated into their own corner leaving her and Richie to talk and generally get to know one another. It relieved her slightly as Adam's presence confused in ways she didn't understand. Duncan and Joe seemed nice enough, but she wasn't sure she could trust them not to turn her into the council, so she maintained her distance. Richie on the other hand, reminded her so much of Xander, it was impossible to dislike him, or distrust him. He had told her that even though he was immortal, he was almost as new as she and that comforted her a great deal.

She was currently explaining, minus her reasons for running away of course, how she had gotten off the bus and been immediately accosted by an immortal bent on taking her head. She described how she had disarmed the man, but Adam had killed him and how that had affected her, not knowing he would get back up.

"That must've been a shock." Richie commented. She nodded, knowing he hadn't meant it in any way disrespectful to her abilities as a slayer.

"Yea. I'm trained to fight demons, not kill humans." She paused, trying to force the all too familiar image of Angel from her mind. "I ran. And he followed. And then he kidnapped me."

"Seriously?" Richie chuckled slightly as she nodded. "Well, Adam hasn't always been subtle," he mused. Buffy smiled.

"Look, I know you immortals are all about swords and challenges," she started, hoping that Richie would understand at least partially her reluctance, "but I'm just not prepared for that. I know that sounds stupid, cause I'm the slayer and I've been fighting since I was fifteen, but if you had any idea what I've...I'm done. I can't do it anymore, and I can't pick up a sword. I just can't. I know Adam probably thinks that in time I'll decide to, but I just can't. I have to make him understand that somehow."

"Hey believe me I get it." Richie told her. "I mean, before I became immortal...well I would watch Duncan and I just thought it was so cool you know? I thought being immortal would be an adventure all the time and because Duncan always seemed so confident I figured that's how'd I'd be if I were immortal. But then I died, and became immortal, and...well I was wrong. I'm not a fighter. I don't like conflict and I hate killing. I never realized how hard it was before. It always looked so...glamorous. I'd give anything to put my sword down. I've wanted to so many times..."

"Why don't you?" She asked, knowing his answer would impact her, regardless of how much she wanted to deny it.

"Because this sword, as much as I hate it, keeps me alive." Richie told her grimly. "I hate the game. I hate everything it's about. And I wish to God I could grow old and die like everyone else. I wish I could have children. I do everything I can not to fight, but if I want to stay alive, this sword is my only hope if I get challenged. I'm no slayer. I can't defeat an opponent without this. I hope you don't lose respect for me because of that."

"If I did, I would be a hypocrite." Buffy told him. She regarded him carefully before asking her next question. "If I can ask, how did you become immortal? I mean, you said you died..."

"I was shot." His answer was short and bitter. Buffy knew there was more to it. "Duncan's fiancé Tessa was kidnapped by some psycho ex watcher who wanted immortals dead. He lured Duncan there to try to kill him. Even though Duncan told me to stay home, I followed him anyway. Duncan killed the looney toon watcher, but told me to take her home so that he could research the guy. As we left the building we were mugged by some kid on drugs. He shot both of us. I woke up, Tessa didn't."

"I'm so sorry," Buffy said sincerely. "That must have been tough on you."

"Not as tough as it was on Duncan," Richie replied. "I think he was even a bit bitter towards me afterwards. Even though it had nothing to do with her, I think part of him was angry that I had survived when Tessa had to die. She was his whole life. She and Duncan were the closest thing to parents I ever had. And I had never seen two people so in love. I'd swear they were soul mates, you know? That must sound incredibly stupid to you, but..."

"Believe me it doesn't," she replied, suddenly very much eager to know more about Duncan MacLeod. "He must have been devastated."

"He's never gotten over her." Richie said with a shrug. "It's been a few years since, and I can tell whenever he thinks of her that he never will. And for a guy who's been around for over four hundred years that's saying a lot. I think you get one you know? One true one anyway and she was it. It's not fair that she was mortal."

"The world isn't fair." Buffy replied, her mouth set in a grim line. She sighed and looked over to where Duncan and Adam sat, lost in conversation. Joe had gone into the back room, presumably to look up information to confirm his theories as to how a slayer could be both slayer and immortal.

Buffy was suddenly overcome with a desperate need to be alone. She had enjoyed Richie's company, but she just couldn't take it anymore. She had run away from her old life, only to come headlong into one that was equally fraught with responsibility and consequence. She just wanted to get away to a place where she was alone with her thoughts. She wanted time to lay down and cry over Angel. She hadn't even gotten time to properly grieve and Richie's story about Duncan and Tessa only brought it all back how much she had lost. Standing up, she smiled what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"I'm going to go back to Adam's place OK Richie? If he asks tell him not to worry."

"Shouldn't one of us go with you?" Richie asked worriedly. Buffy smiled wryly and reminded herself that to these people, she still looked like a seventeen year old girl and not all of them knew how competent slayers were.

"Believe me when I say that I am more than capable of getting home in one piece, sword notwithstanding." She grinned in an attempt at lightheartedness. "I saved the world y'know. Talk to you later Richie. Nice to meet you."

And before he could protest any further, she left.


	8. The Nature of Slayers

"So what are your theories on the girl, Joe?" Duncan asked as soon as Anne and Richie were out of earshot. Methos bristled at Duncan's words, not understanding himself why hearing Duncan refer to her as 'the girl' should bother him.

"It's a legend. I'm not even sure if it's real, but if it is, then it has to do with the slayer possibly being immortal. I will have to do some research on it before I'm certain, but if I'm right than this girl could be incredibly important. Adam, you can't let her run."

"What makes you think she will Joe?" Methos knew that the slayer was skittish, but had thought they had come to an understanding. Clearly Joe did not agree, and from the look on his face, neither did Duncan.

"Whatever she's been through it was tough." Joe told them. "I've seen vets with that very same expression in their eyes. If things get too rough, she may decide to run. She's already done so."

"I'll watch her." Methos promised. "I'll keep her from running."

"We can't hold her against her will either." Duncan said with a frown.

"I wasn't suggesting kidnapping." Methos retorted sarcastically. "I just meant that I will try to convince her to stay. She may be scared, but I don't think she will run again. In fact, I think all she wants is to stop."

"I hope you're right." Joe told him with a heavy sigh. "Look, I'm going to go back and start on that research. The sooner the better."

Methos watched as Joe left and turned back to Duncan who was shaking his head slightly. His suspicion was really beginning to irk Methos.

"You really buy into this whole vampire slayer thing?" He was asking him. Methos almost smiled at the Scot's innocence.

"I take it you don't?"

"I've never seen a vampire." The Scot said stubbornly. Methos hoped that one day he would realize that the world did not revolve around his view alone.

"Well then it stands to reason that if Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod has never seen it, then it must not exist." He could not seem to keep the sarcasm in check.

"Very funny."

"I don't usually pull out the age card here, but I've seen far more than you could ever imagine," Methos told him all seriousness returning to his tone. "The things that most people don't see, she protects us from. Without the slayer, this world would have ended a long time ago. If you still don't believe me, check the other Watcher's Council...hell, talk to Joe about slayers for five minutes!"

"You said some watchers don't even know the other branch exists." Duncan pointed out. "How is it that Joe does?"

"They only tell a select few." Methos told him. "They want the councils kept separate for a reason. They slayer's watcher has extensive contact and influence over the slayer whereas immortal watchers are the exact opposite. I guess they are afraid that if our watchers knew just how the other side worked..."

"They'd want contact with their immortals as well." Duncan finished for him. Methos nodded.

"You catch on quick." He smiled wryly. "In retrospect, Joe probably wasn't the best one to tell about slayers."

"How long have you been with the watchers anyway?" Duncan wondered.

"I've known about them almost as long as they've been in existence." Methos replied. "But I haven't belonged to the immortal watcher's branch for very long. The slayers branch was a different story however. I was there for quite some time."

"Research?" Duncan guessed.

"Field man actually." Methos replied with a grimace as he thought of his beautiful slayer.

"You're kidding!" He was exclaiming. "You are telling me that you watched a slayer?"

"For a time." Methos said quietly. His eyes remained impassive as he spoke of her. "I was...harder than I thought it would be."

"You fell in love with her." Duncan's words were a statement not a question. Methos allowed himself to picture her face as he answered.

"She was...extraordinary. A true warrior. I was...foolish." He drew a breath as he met Duncan's eyes. "Slayers and watchers aren't supposed to...it's frowned upon."

"It must have been rough when she died." Methos could see the empathy in Duncan's eyes as he no doubt remembered the pain of losing Tessa.

"All slayers die." Methos said with what he hoped was a casual shrug. He did not want the Scot's sympathy. "It's in the legacy. I forgot that for a moment, that's all. This one will die too. Immortal or no, it's her destiny."

"She's young." Duncan protested. "Too young."

"Only in appearance." He looked toward where she sat with Richie and smiled bitterly. "Slayers have old souls MacLeod. It's what helps them cope and survive. This girl is older than most."

"You like her." Duncan's voice sounded almost accusatory. Methos glared at him.

"I'm not that foolish. I feel bad for her. She has a tough rode ahead. That's why I brought her here."

"What do you mean?" Duncan asked suspiciously.

"She'll need someone to train her with a sword." Methos said simply. "She's had some experience as a slayer, but that will only go so far for her. If an older immortal challenges her, she could lose. You're the best with a sword Mac. You're the one who should teach her."

"Modesty doesn't become you Methos." Duncan said with a wry smile. "You're just as good as I am, in fact I would bet money that whenever we've fought, you've been holding back. Why me?"

Methos allowed his shoulders to slump in exasperation. He couldn't tell Duncan his reasons for not wanting to train her, when he himself was not sure of them.

"Look I'm not that guy, OK? Let's just leave it at that. I'd make a lousy teacher."

"What about the fact that she refuses to fight?" He could tell Duncan was starting to come around.

"She's been through something rough, but she's a slayer." Methos replied confidently. "She won't run forever."

"You can't be sure of that."

"I can, believe me." Methos said softly.

"I'll train her to fight, but only if she wants to learn." Duncan finally agreed.

"Have patience with her Mac," Methos said with a sigh. "You can't possibly understand what she's lost, simply by being the chosen one."

"Never thought I'd see this much empathy from you." He remarked.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me." His tone was guarded. "And you can afford to be empathetic when you know what they see. Their lives are one big tragedy MacLeod."

"I'm starting to get that." He responded. Then, after looking around a moment, "hey where did she go?"

Glancing over to where they had been, Methos cursed when he saw the empty seat beside Richie. Anne had left.

"Damn it!"


	9. More Questions

Buffy walked slowly down the darkened streets as she headed back to Adam's apartment. She couldn't keep her mind from returning to Duncan MacLeod, and remembering Richie's story about Tessa his lost love. Richie had called them soul mates, and yet Duncan looked to be a healthy, well adjusted man. How was he able to move on with his life, when all Buffy could see when she closed her eyes was the shocked and betrayed look upon her lover's face as she plunged him into hell?

He didn't kill her. That had to be part of it. Someone else had murdered her. Perhaps he had sought revenge. Would that have helped to heal him? Before this, she would have said no. Now, she wasn't so sure. Morals and ethics were something foreign to her now. In one blinding moment, every black and white she had ever known had become grey.

She couldn't even seek vengeance, even if it would help. She was the murderer. She had committed this unspeakable act and though sometimes when she thought of it, she longed for the simple embrace of death, she could never do it herself. The warrior in her was too strong to bring about her own fate...at least for now.

She felt torn in a way she had never known before. She ran from Sunnydale to find solace away from people and the world in general. Instead, she had run headlong into something equally as dangerous as her previous life and encountered a new group of people who, if she weren't so torn, she would probably have really liked. She found herself wanting to be away from them, and then wishing for their company when she was left alone with her thoughts. Much as she hated to admit it to herself, right now she missed Adam.

When he was around, she could block the memory of Angel from her mind. She could concentrate on what it meant to be immortal, and ignore the pain that pierced her every being. She could pretend she was Anne Sommerville.

When she was alone, she was Buffy again and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the floodgate of tears that threatened themselves. She knew if she allowed herself to wallow in her grief, it would never stop. It would paralyze her to the point of utter collapse and she refused to become that person. Retired or not, she was still the slayer and slayers couldn't afford to give into weakness.

She blinked and paused as she was suddenly overcome with the immortal feeling Adam had described earlier as the 'buzz'. She stopped cold, and turned hoping to see Adam, Duncan or Richie behind her. She didn't.

"What do you want?" She asked the man. He didn't blink, choosing instead to advance slowly toward her.

"I want to challenge you." He replied. She rolled her eyes and reverted to the one defense tactic that had become incredibly useful in past fights against potentially stronger foes-sarcasm.

"Now that's original! Don't you immortals have any other lines? I mean honestly in the last couple of days all I've heard are 'I challenge you' or 'I've come for your head'. You guys must really be bored."

"You are amusing slayer, but it won't help you." The man replied. Buffy felt the air leave her.

"How do you know who I am?"

"I know many things about you." The man told her with a chilling smile. "I know your true name, I know what you did, I know why you ran and I knew that you would be in this street, on this night in this city."

"You know so much about me, who the hell are you?" She took an inadvertent step back, attempting to keep her composure which slipped further and further with every word he spoke.

"It's of no consequence to you. The dead can't appreciate much." He grinned and removed his sword. "Shall we dance?"

"I don't have a sword," she said nervously. She had a feeling it wouldn't matter to this man either way.

"I know." He took another step towards her. "Still, I can't help wondering what you've got. And I never fight fair."

Buffy had had it with the man's threats. Before he could make a move she lunged towards him executing a perfect roundhouse and landing it in the man's face. Were he any normal human (or immortal) it would have knocked him clean backwards. Even a vampire would reel slightly from the blow, but instead her foot twisted upon contact and she was thrown back several feet. It felt like she was kicking iron. He was staring at her, unblinking, an amused smirk on his lips.

"That was cute." He took two strides towards where she had landed and picked her up by the neck single-handedly. He smiled once more, and this time Buffy could see the teeth he possessed were not human. And yet, he felt like an immortal. No other vampire had ever had the immortal buzz, so how did this man possess it? What was he? Before she could ask those questions, he threw her roughly against the sidewalk. She felt the air leave her as she landed and tried to suppress the panic she was suddenly feeling.

Scrambling to her feet, she hurled a series of punches at him that did not even affect him. He stood staring at her, allowing her to pummel him, the smile on his face growing as she did so.

With one swift kick, she was down on the ground again, gasping for air. Hurling her up, he proceeded to swiftly attack her with a flurry of kicks and punches that she never even saw coming, much less knew how to counter.

He was stronger than her, faster than her, and he appeared to be both immortal and vampire all at once. What was going on?

"What..." she had barely gotten out the word, when the man spat on her in disgust.

"You are pathetic slayer." He hissed. "I was under the impression that you would present a challenge. As it stands this night has been very disappointing for me."

"Maybe you should have stayed home then," Adam's voice came from behind and Buffy looked up to see him standing there, sword at the ready.

"Adam!" She exclaimed, suddenly struck by the immense danger he was putting himself in without realizing it. "Get out of here now. This isn't your fight."

"You have a strange way of saying thank you," he replied undeterred. "We'll have to work on that."

"He's not like other immortals!" She continued. "He's a vampire as well!"

"And a hell of a piano player, but enough small talk." The immortal/vampire threw himself at Adam, his sword clashing against Adam's Ivanhoe with a sickeningly strong clang. Buffy searched her mind frantically for an idea, knowing that Adam would only last so long before succumbing to the creature.

Suddenly she remembered the holy water she had placed in her pants pockets before leaving to go to Joe's that evening. She had given up slaying, but she wasn't stupid. Standing up, she grabbed it and hurled it at the creature. It smashed against his face, having the desired effect. He reeled back from it, his face smoking and dropped his sword.

Reacting on pure instinct alone, Buffy grabbed it and thrust it at the creature, managing to stab him in the chest. He looked up at her and she was suddenly floored at what she had done. Here she was, back in this same position, another man at the end of a sword.

"Oh God," she murmured, almost physically ill.

"Anne!" Adam was yelling at her, but she couldn't hear it over the roaring in her ears. "Anne, finish him! Take his head!"

But she couldn't. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. The world started to spin around her, and all she could hear was Angel's final words and hers, telling him to close his eyes.

"No," she whispered, shaking now, not even noticing the vampire/immortal backing up, to extricate himself from the impalement. "Angel..."

"Anne, come on!" She felt Adam tug at her arm, but barely registered it. He must have realized her paralysis because he pulled both her and the sword away from the creature with amazing force, hitting it with the hilt of his sword to stun it momentarily before yanking her close to him and making a run for it.

She didn't even know how fast or how far they had run until they both stopped, panting and gasping for breath. She was still holding the creature's sword.

"What the hell was that?" Adam was demanding to know. She looked around and saw they were in front of his apartment. He headed up the stairs and she followed close behind, choosing to answer him only when they were in the safety of his apartment.

"I...I couldn't beat him." She finally said lamely.

"I noticed that," he snapped back. "You froze completely when you had the opportunity to defeat him. Why?"

"I did not freeze!" She argued. It was useless, for she knew he was right. Still, she wasn't about to tell him her reasons.

"Like hell you didn't!" Adam shot back. "I've gone easy on you so far, because I thought you would come through in a pinch. I honestly thought when push came to shove you would rise to the challenge, but you just stood there waiting to die. Maybe I should have just let you. It's obvious you're not up to the task of either slayer or immortal."

"What do you know?" She exclaimed. "That thing was both immortal and vampire, did you notice that? You couldn't beat it either, so don't you dare lay this on me. I did my best."

"If you call that your best, I'd hate to see you at your worst." He sneered. "And there's no such thing as a vampire immortal. It's not possible."

"You're 0 for 2 in the last few days then it seems, because you said it wasn't impossible for me to be both slayer and immortal either." She felt triumphant that she was at least correct on that score. However, the look he was suddenly giving her, told her that she was wrong, yet again.

"Actually it seems I was right in that respect." He reached up to her face and gently touched her lower lip, which was bleeding quite freely along with her head and chin. "You're not an immortal after all. An immortal would have healed by now, but you're still bleeding."

"So...what am I?" She asked quietly, feeling more lost that ever before. The look he gave her back caused her heart to drop in fear.

"I don't know."


	10. Research Mode

"I'm telling you Mac, she's not an immortal." Methos suppressed the urge to beat some sense into the Scot's thick, stubborn head.

"You said it yourself Methos, we both felt the buzz. How can she feel like an immortal, and not be an immortal?" He paused a moment. "Does it have to do with her being a slayer?"

"No," Methos said with a sigh. He looked around the empty bar where he, MacLeod and Joe Dawson sat the following day, trying desperately to come up with an explanation for the slayer's deceptive immortal buzz. Methos was happy that Anne had decided to stay back at his apartment while he called this impromptu meeting. Much as he thought she did deserve to know what their theories are, he did not want her to here them discussing the possibilities, lest some of them offend her. He glanced at MacLeod once more who was waiting for him to finish his statement. "I told you I've known slayers before. They don't have an immortal buzz."

"Well this one does." MacLeod frowned. "I don't like this at all."

"And what was it you said about this guy that attacked you?" Joe asked, opening one of his watcher diaries and absently flipping through it. "You said he wasn't entirely right?"

"I couldn't beat him." Methos admitted gritting his teeth. It was a hard truth for him, as despite his apparent cowardice towards immortal challenges, he knew himself to be an extremely formidable foe. "He was stronger, faster, better. I don't know how or...Anne seems to think that he was both Immortal and Vampire."

"That's not possible." Joe stated. Those few words were beginning to become very annoying to Methos.

"Why not?" Duncan wondered. "I don't know too much about vampires, but if they do exist, wouldn't they turn immortals into vampires just the same as people?"

"No, they stay away from immortals entirely." Methos replied, almost without thinking. "Our blood is poisonous to them. Kills them instantly. Vampires can sense who we are, but in a different way than we can sense immortals. They know not to bite us, almost instinctively. The younger ones who don't...well, they learn the hard way. Either way, an immortal vampire just can't happen."

"Well it seems like a lot of rules are being broken lately." Joe said stubbornly. "I don't know about you guys, but at this point I'm not willing to rule anything out."

"Have you found anything in the watcher chronicles?" Methos wondered. He knew he should be helping Joe with the research as that was his area, but thoughts of Anne's safety and mysterious trauma had occupied his mind of late. He desperately wanted to wash away that look of utter despair he would sometimes see cross her features, but he didn't know how. Somehow he would. He would not fail another slayer. Freud would have a field day with me, he thought bitterly.

"Yes and no," Joe replied hesitantly. "I haven't found anything in writing, but I remember back in the academy there was this legend that they told those of us who knew about the slayer branch. It had to do with the slayer being mistaken for an immortal and a foe she must fight, more dangerous to both worlds than could ever be imagined. I wrote it off as pure nonsense, but it looks like it might be more real than I thought. I've been looking through various journals trying to find reference to it in a more stable light, but so far nothing."

"Keep looking Joe," Duncan told him. "You'll find something."

"How is it I don't know this legend?" Methos wondered. After all the years he had spent in the council, he found it odd he had never encountered it.

"You're a researcher 'Adam'." Joe said sarcastically. "And you haven't been involved in the immortal branch very long. As far as their concerned you don't even know slayers exist. And you're supposed to be researching the legendary immortal Methos. How would you possibly come across the legend looking for him?"

"How indeed." Methos murmured to himself. "Look, until we find out who this guy is, we have to figure out a way to deal with this immortal/vampire...whatever he is. He nearly took us both out last night. I don't like those odds."

"I could start training her with a sword tonight." MacLeod offered. "Get her a little better prepared for him."

"No, she's not ready to pick up a sword." Methos replied, remembering the trembling slayer as she impaled the attacking immortal. "I had hoped she would be, but...whatever happened to her scarred her deeper than either of us imagined."

"We can't just wait around for him to attack again." MacLeod argued.

"She's not ready Mac," Methos insisted, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "Leave it at that."

"I think you're becoming a little too protective of her Methos," MacLeod pushed. Methos felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the insinuation. "You're not her watcher."

"No, I'm not." He replied quietly. "But I flatter myself to think me her friend. You can't possibly understand..."

"Don't tell me I can't understand slayers and think that excuse will keep cutting it!" Duncan interrupted. "Maybe I don't know the nature of the slayer, but I do know people. That girl is a human being in pain. She is hiding from whatever it is that hurt her and normally that would be fine, but this is too dangerous. If she's half the warrior you say she is, we'll need her to fight."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Methos asked him. "I can see her struggling every second. But I'm telling you now MacLeod if I push her too far, she will run from us and we won't get her back. The girl is my business, you got that? Stay out of it."

"I hope you know what you're doing Methos." Duncan finally said in resignation. Methos didn't even look at him, but instead turned his attention to Joe.

"Is there anything you need me to do Joe? I have access to some of the research databanks that you don't. I can try to dig up this legend you mentioned."

"Yea, that would be helpful." Joe told him. He looked away from the two immortals, giving Methos the sinking feeling that there was more to this than he was letting on.

"Joe what is it?"

"This legend...if I'm right, then the girl will have to fight. And the thing she'll be fighting? Well, let's just say he's no walk in the park. I really hope I'm wrong about this."

"Yea me too." Methos said with a sigh. "I'm going to go back to my place. I'll do some research later and let you know what I find out."


	11. Adam's Sanctuary

The moment Adam left to go meet with Joe and Duncan, Buffy found herself regretting her decision to stay in Adam's apartment alone. That encounter with the immortal/vampire the night before had rankled her more than she liked to admit. She hated the fact that she had frozen after stabbing the thing, and even moreso she hated that Adam had seen it.

She was a slayer, but all she had shown him since arriving in Seacouver was cowardice and vulnerability. He must think I'm so weak, she thought bitterly. But why did it matter? That was what bothered her even more. Why did she care what Adam Pierson thought of her? Why was she allowing herself to sink further and further into yet another world that demanded more than she could give?

She suddenly missed Sunnydale so much it physically hurt. She thought of her mother and blinked back tears. Yes they had fought, but deep down did Buffy never actually thought her mother meant what she had said. No, she knew that her mother had reacted from emotional shock. And still, she had taken it literally, using those words as an excuse to flee the consequences of her actions.

Xander would hate me if he knew, she thought, sighing as she pictured his face in her mind. He had always believed in her the most, but with that belief came the pedestal that he had placed her on since day one. He had believed her to be beyond the emotional failings of most normal humans and she had disappointed him more than once when a difficult situation arose and she proved him wrong. Most notably, Angel. She knew Xander had wanted her to kill him, thought she could kill him and the disappointment she saw in his eyes when she couldn't cut like a knife every time she remembered it.

He was right though. She wasn't an ordinary girl. People had died because of her inability to kill Angel and when she finally did…well, she couldn't face anybody after that. Running had been the only option. She could barely stand to look at herself in the mirror, let alone let her friends see the thing she had become. And yet, she missed them. Everything was more frightening to her without their comforting presence.

She suddenly realized it was them that had kept her going for so long. Being the slayer had terrified her in L.A. She had vowed to give it up entirely and maybe she would have, were it not for Willow and Xander and their willingness to stick by her no matter how dark things got. They were the power behind the slayer, she knew that now. And this is how she repaid them. She tried to picture a time when she, Xander and Willow had been together and happy and carefree, but found it impossible. There was no time when they had been completely happy and carefree, but they had been together.

They had been the ones that had kept her from self destructing entirely after Angel changed. Many a night, she had called Willow on the phone, in tears, not knowing how she would be able to kill him when the time came. Willow hadn't been able to offer any answers, but there had been her friendship and that had been enough. She had nobody to talk to now. She couldn't tell Adam what she had done. He was the only friend she had in this place and if he knew what she was capable of…what kind of monster she really was…well, she'd be alone again. That thought was more terrifying than the creature she had faced last night.

Her mind drifted back to the demon immortal and she shivered once more as she remembered it's soulless eyes as it taunted her, fully aware it was stronger than she was. It was sheer luck that she had managed to get the upper hand, and even then she had frozen, unable to perform the one simple job she still retained from her old life. Slayer. Killer of evil creatures. She had failed in that too. It was almost as if Angel's death had finally killed the slayer. All that remained now was Buffy and Buffy wasn't strong like the slayer was. Buffy was merely a scared little girl, alone in a strange city and seeking comfort from yet another watcher who was trying to protect her.

Was that all Adam was? A substitute for Giles? No, that wasn't it at all. When she was with Giles, she felt his authority. He wore it like a part of himself. As if it adorned those tweed suits of his that made him look ten years older than he probably was. With Adam, she felt like she was….well, not his equal as he had been on this world far longer than she, but she felt like he saw her as a person. A broken person perhaps, but not the frightened child she perceived herself to be. She didn't feel like a runaway around him, and she needed that right now.

Standing up, she walked slowly around the main room of Adam's apartment. He was a mysterious mixture of old and new. At times it felt like he was an open book, completely readable in every way and other times, she would glance at him and see centuries of different men lurking beneath that calm exterior and observant hazel eyes. She wondered about some of those men. She wondered who he had been, what he had seen. And as she looked around the apartment she got a small idea at least.

Many of his books were ancient and in another language. However, he possessed many a modern novel as well, including the Dr. Seuss classic "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish". He had some foreign or classical CD's, and yet he also possessed many contemporary albums, mostly skewing towards the classic rock. There were very few pictures, or personal items.

Entering his bedroom, she noticed a more personal feel than the other rooms. Obviously he considered this to be a sanctuary, a place where he could be more himself, than the immortal he pretended to be. She wondered if she should be in here, but brushed the thought off. She wasn't harming anything. Looking down at his bed, she noticed a journal lay on top of it, open, with a picture in the middle of it.

The picture was hand drawn, and old. It was so old, she could barely make out the writing on the bottom of it as she picked it up. It was a young girl about her age and she was smiling. She squinted and managed to make out the girl's first name.

"Celine."

"She was a slayer." Adam's voice behind her caused her to jump in shock and drop the picture back onto the bed. She turned towards him, blushing furiously, ashamed of being caught staring at what was obviously something personal to him.

"I am so sorry…" She began to say, but Adam waved his hand as if it weren't important and took a step towards her, picking the picture up and staring at it for a moment before continuing.

"You were wondering who she was right?" He asked her. Buffy could only nod as he smiled fondly at the picture. "I was her watcher. She was my slayer."

"Your slayer…" Buffy trailed off as the implication hit her. "You loved her."

"Very much," he said with a trace of a smile. Buffy's mind suddenly flashed back to Giles and she suppressed a shudder. She couldn't imagine ever having romantic feelings for him. At first he had been like a teacher, and then as they grew closer, a father. She had always just assumed it was the same way for all slayers. Adam could obviously sense her thoughts because he gave a soft chuckle. "It was different back then you know. Girls got married younger than that. And Celine never saw me as an authority figure. I was her second watcher and by the time we met…well, she knew what it meant to be the slayer. I was really only there for moral support."

"What was she like?" She thought suddenly of Kendra, the ill fated slayer that had been called after she died. Kendra had only been the slayer for about a year, and it was because of Angel that she too was dead. Another would likely be called in her place and the cycle would go on and on. All these dead girls, all these fallen slayers. Who would remember them or the things they had done? If they were lucky they would be written down in watcher diaries, as guides for future slayers. But nobody else would ever really know. Adam would though. He was immortal and from the look on his face and the tone in his voice would never forget Celine. Buffy may have the buzz, but it was the young girl in the picture who had achieved true immortality.

"She was beautiful." Adam was saying. "Strong, and proud. She didn't like anybody telling her what to do, least of all me. Never once did the darkness she fought scare her. It was the idea that she would fail in her duty, fail to save somebody that truly terrified her. She being the slayer. It was all she ever wanted to be."

"And it's everything I hate." Buffy said bitterly. She couldn't even look at Adam. "You must really despise me."

"I don't despise you by any means." Adam said with a chuckle. "Anne, you are not Celine. I don't expect you to be her. You're one of a kind."

"I'm a failure." She argued, utterly hating the kindness in his eyes. "I've run away from everything. My watcher, my mother, my friends…I'm supposed to be helping people, like you said she loved to do, but all I can think of day in and day out is avoiding the world as best as I can. I don't want to save people anymore. I know that's a terrible thing to say, but all its done is cause pain and death to me and those around me. I'm tired. I'm so tired of it. And yet it feels like I can't escape it."

"Would it help if you told me about why you ran?" Adam's voice was gentle and yet the very idea of it, caused her to stiffen and pull away from him.

"I…I can't." She shook her head. "I can't talk about it."

"You can only run so long Anne." He warned her. "If you don't face whatever it is you are running from it will destroy you. Or, that creature that attacked us last night will. It's not like quitting for you involves a pension and a desk job. You are still going to be targeted. And I'm not going to follow you around everywhere you go."

"I don't need your protection." She snapped, hating the truth in his words. "I'm not helpless."

"No, you're not." He agreed. "Hell, when push comes to shove, you do a great impersonation of a rock. Eventually though, they'll figure out who you are and they will kill you Anne. Real life always gets in the way no matter how badly you want to escape it. Think about that."


	12. Same Tune, Different Instrument

Duncan MacLeod knocked on the door to Methos' apartment, secretly hoping the immortal wasn't home. He wanted to talk to Anne, and wanted to do so without the presence of the old man to influence her judgment. While it was true he didn't know the girl personally the very fact that there might be an immortal/vampire out there who could defeat Methos so easily worried him greatly. If she was their only hope of defeating him, then Duncan was determined to get her to see reason. It seemed that Duncan and Methos' positions had shifted. Now it seemed to be Methos who was coddling the girl and Duncan who wanted to be tougher on her.

The door was answered warily by Anne, who looked past him to make sure nobody else was in the hallway. She eyed him suspiciously when she realized it was just him.

"Duncan right?" She didn't offer a smile. Duncan however did so, in an attempt to relax her.

"Is Adam here?" He figured it would be a better idea to make it seem as if he were attempting to talk to Methos, rather than to her.

"He went out to get some research stuff from Council headquarters. I'll tell him you were here." She went to shut the door, but Duncan stopped her.

"Look I'll be honest Anne, I really want to talk to you", it looked like the pretext of needing to talk to Methos was going to work for him. Best to just come out with it. "I think I can help you."

"How did you get in the building?" She wondered, ignoring his statement completely. Duncan blinked.

"Adam gave me a key."

"So, if I close the door and lock it, it won't do any good, right?" There was no disguising the annoyance in her tone. Clearly she wanted to be alone for whatever reasons and he was disturbing that. Still, this was too important to worry about what she thought of him.

"Pretty much." He replied with a shrug. She sighed and opened the door, stepping back and waiting for him to enter.

He did so, smiling tentatively and hoping she would drop her guard at least somewhat so that he could talk to her on a more personal level.

"What is it you want?" She asked bluntly. He smiled again in an attempt to re-establish the friendliness that she seemed to show him, however briefly at Joe's.

"I heard about what happened with that immortal attacking you and Adam the other night. I was just worried."

"About what?" She seemed genuinely curious now, which was a good thing.

"Well, for one thing I was worried he may have come back."

"I can take care of myself," she said coolly. "Besides, unlike immortals with keys, vampires can't get into a house unless they're invited."

So that's why she didn't verbally invite me, Duncan thought to himself. Smart girl.

"I wasn't doubting your ability to handle yourself." Duncan assured her. "Adam tells me you are quite able as a slayer. I'll admit to not knowing much about slayers, or vampires for that matter. Still, I was under the impression that vampires couldn't be immortal."

"Where'd you hear that? Adam?" Buffy scrunched her nose up when he nodded. "Well between you, me, and the fencepost, I think he's short a few screws. He hasn't exactly been Mr. knowledgeable. First he tells me I'm immortal, then he tells me I'm not, then he tells me that that thing that attacked wasn't, and can't have been a vampire. I don't know much about immortals, but I do know vampires. Believe me when I say that was a vampire."

"I believe you." Duncan replied. And he did. "Adam tells me you couldn't defeat it. How is that? I was under the impression that slayers were stronger than vampires."

"Normally we are," she said ruefully. "That was no normal vampire. It had what you immortals call the 'buzz', yet it looked like a vampire, only ten times as strong. It's dangerous. Really dangerous. I'm in no hurry to meet up with that guy again."

"He seemed pretty fixated on you according to Adam." Duncan spoke casually, but he was getting closer to the subject matter at hand.

"Yea well most vampires are." She shrugged. "It's a male testosterone thing that I think just gets heightened when they become vamps. I mean, what's the best way to prove you're cock of the walk? Take down a slayer. Only usually they're too stupid to accomplish it. That guy…he came close."

"Look, I don't want that to happen again. I can help you Anne, if you'll let me." Duncan took a step towards her, but the suspicious look was back on her face.

"Help me how?"

"I can train you to use a sword." He offered, adding in a rush before she could deny him. "I know you've had some training already, and that's fine, but it's not nearly enough. This vampire/immortal is an anomaly, but there will be centuries old immortals that will want to fight you as well and if they do challenge you…"

"I'll deal with it." She said firmly. "I won't pick up a sword. I've already said that."

"You really think you're that tough?" He glared at her. "Are you on a suicide mission?"

"I don't want to fight and I don't want to die and I'm sick of having to explain that to you people. I just want to be left alone." She sighed heavily. "Look I know I can't stop you from coming and going, but would you please leave?"

"Anne, you can't keep…"

"Are you going to give me the 'you can't keep running' speech again? Don't worry about it, I have it on repeat in my head." She stood her ground. "I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions."

"You seem like an intelligent girl too." Duncan told her, shaking his head in confusion. "I can't understand it."

"Calling me stupid won't get me to allow you to teach me Mr. MacLeod."

"My name is Duncan."

"Whatever it is, if your reason for coming here was to train with you, you're wasting your time. Stay or go, I don't care. I'm not talking about this anymore." She turned away from him and headed towards the kitchen.

"Anne…" Duncan began to protest.

"Mac?" Methos sounded surprised to see him standing in his living room. "What are you doing here?"

"Your buddy here thought I might sing a different tune if I heard it from another instrument I think." Anne said with a wry grin directed at Methos. "It was a good try Adam, but the answer is still no."

"I didn't send him." Methos replied, glaring at Duncan. He suddenly felt very foolish for thinking he could persuade her where Methos couldn't. She clearly had a rapport with Methos that didn't even begin to touch the tenuous civility she possessed towards him. She had called him Mr. MacLeod for crying out loud! Sheepishly he looked over at Methos.

"I came on my own. I thought I'd ask her to train."

"Didn't go too well, did it?" Methos shot him an annoying 'I told you so' look. Duncan gritted his teeth.

"Her level of blind stubbornness is nothing to be proud of Adam," Duncan said sarcastically.

"Hello, I'm in the room!" Anne exclaimed angrily. Duncan shot her an apologetic look.

"Sorry about that. Look, I'm going to go. It's obvious I overstepped my bounds by coming here."

"Yea, I think you did." The slayer agreed, but the accusation and anger had gone from her eyes. "Thanks for the concern though."

"I hope to see you again Ms. Sommerville." Duncan told her, hoping to assuage her hostility by reverting to the politeness she had used on him. Instead, she shrugged and smiled slightly, a rare thing where she was concerned.

"It's Anne." She told him quietly. "You can call me Anne."


	13. A Night Out With Adam

Buffy watched Duncan go and sighed as she shut the door. Adam was staring at her curiously, but said nothing.

"He always that opinionated about people he doesn't know?" She finally asked him. Adam smirked slightly.

"Mac likes to think he knows everything about everyone in the universe. He means well, he just doesn't always go about things the right way." Adam shrugged. "He's young. He'll learn."

"So you really didn't tell him to come here and talk to me?" She was still a little wary. Adam shook his head.

"I actually requested he stay away." Adam admitted. "I was afraid if he started pushing too hard, you would…"

"What?" She interrupted, feeling her stomach drop slightly as she suddenly realized what Adam must think of her. "That I'd run? Get freaked out and take off?"

"Well, yes." He said, rather sheepishly to his credit. "Is there any reason I shouldn't think that way?"

She was prepared to tell him off, to give him a blistering lecture about how he should know her better, but then she realized he was right. He didn't know her. She had only known him a short while and nothing in her actions contrasted that opinion. Hell, she couldn't contrast it. She was a coward. Still, for some reason running was the last thing on her mind. She couldn't understand why, but she felt the need to prove herself to Adam, to show him she was someone to be counted on, despite her unwillingness to fight.

"I guess not." She admitted. "But it's going to take a little more than a well meaning immortal to make me take off."

"That I do believe." Adam said with a smile. "Hey, look it's been a rough few days. Why don't we just forget everything and hang out for a while? We could go to a movie, or have dinner. Anything to get our minds off of immortals, slayers, vampires, fighting and other general unpleasantries."

"Sounds good." She told him. He nodded and went to check the internet for movie times while she found her coat and made sure there was a spare stake inside. Old habits die hard, even for retirees.

They saw a comedy, which relieved Buffy as she didn't feel like seeing anything heavy, or with excess tragedy in it. She needed something purely escapist and Adam seemed to understand that, as he sat through an entire chick flick with her, admirably pretending it wasn't boring him to tears.

She found herself enjoying his company in a social scenario. He was light and easy to talk to. His sense of humour leaned towards a dry wickedness that she found oddly enjoyable. She had always pictured watchers as stuffy and unable to let loose, but Adam seemed to contradict both of those stereotypes admirably. And despite the fact that she knew he was older than he seemed he didn't look at her with that same condescension that she saw in Duncan MacLeod's eyes that seemed to suggest she knew nothing and he knew everything. She knew Adam didn't agree with her not wanting to fight, but he respected her reasons and knew her pain was genuine.

She felt comfortable with him in a way that she hadn't felt since…well, since Angel. She immediately mentally kicked herself for allowing her thoughts to drift that way. Whenever she thought about Adam and Angel in the same context the guilt would immediately surface. She wasn't even sure why.

She wasn't interested in Adam romantically. She was grateful for him, in a way that she couldn't define, but her heart still belonged completely and totally to Angel. She suspected it always would. So why did she feel guilty for enjoying Adam's company? Why did she feel that every time she looked at Adam, Angel's accusing eyes would look back?

"What are you thinking about?" Adam was asking gently. She turned and attempted a smile.

"Just…home." She knew it was vague, but couldn't give him an answer beyond that.

"You miss you're old life." He kicked a stone in front of him as they walked. "It's natural."

"I miss my friends. I miss my mom and my watcher…" she trailed off, finding it painful to think of their smiling faced worrying to death over what had become of her. "I don't miss my old life."

"The slayer parts you mean." He clarified. She nodded, but said nothing. "What were they like? You're friends and watcher?"

"They are the most amazing people I've ever known." She replied honestly. "They found out about my being the slayer and stuck by me. They even helped me fight. I know it's against the rules, and the slayer should fight alone, but honestly without them I don't know that I could have done it."

"Everyone needs a support system." Adam agreed, no condemnation in his tone in regards to her unique slaying situation. Then again, if there were, it would make him an extreme hypocrite as he too had broken the rules, falling in love with his slayer.

"They were the best." She replied whole heartedly. "One of my biggest regrets about leaving is not telling them I'm OK. They must be so worried about me. Willow especially. She's my best friend in the whole world. And Xander…God I miss Xander. He's a bit like Richie in a lot of ways."

"And you still miss him?" Adam's eyes twinkled and she laughed.

"Yea." She shook her head. "I can't believe it, but I even miss Cordelia. And Giles…he was my watcher. I just know he's beside himself with worry. Ever since my father walked out on us, he's been…well Giles has been like a father to me. And I know I've disappointed him."

"I wish I could tell you that you haven't," Adam said regretfully. "But anybody who loves you would be all those things…worried, disappointed, and scared. Do they know why you ran?"

"Giles and my friends probably do by now," she replied, biting her lip. "My mom…well, she had just found out I was the slayer. She didn't really have time to process everything. I don't think she knows why. I just wish I could go back…"

"We can only go forward," Adam said firmly. "And that means if you don't want to fight, you better think of some way of staying away from trouble and moving past whatever it is that is keeping you tied to that pain."

"It's not as easy as all that." She told him, a lump forming in her throat as she remembered Angel's strong arms around her. She shivered. "What I did…can't be forgiven, and I don't know how I could ever forget it."

"Take it from me Anne, when I say that time has incredible healing powers. If it didn't, I would never have lived this long."

"How old are you? Really?" She wondered, curiosity getting the better of her. "And what's your real name? I know it's not Adam Pierson."

"Oh no, now we're getting into the realm of the personal." He clucked his tongue in a teasing manner. "I could say the same thing of you 'Anne Sommerville'. You want to tell me who you really are? I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I withdraw the question." She said wryly. She should have known he wouldn't buy her phoney name. He read people far too well to be put off by that. "And if you knew that wasn't my real name, why didn't you just look it up in the watcher's databanks? I'm sure I'm on file there."

"Because I'm not going to push." He told her gently. "If you want to tell me who you are, you will. If you don't, that's fine too. It's none of my business who you are, or what you've done. I know all too well that projecting too much onto others, can only disappoint them. One day I hope you will trust me enough to tell me your secrets. Until then, I can wait."

"Well you never know, someday I might." She frowned. "You make me want to let my guard down."

"And that's bad?" His tone was light, but serious.

"It is when you know what I've…" She trailed off and noticed they were at his doorstep. "Trusting people too easily only leads to badness. I learned that the hard way."

"Most of the important lessons are learned that way." He said ruefully. They were inside the apartment now and Buffy found herself yawning despite her wish to continue talking to Adam.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" She found herself asking.

"Thought I would head over to Joe's and see if he knows any more about that guy who attacked you, or why you have an immortal's buzz. Did you want to come?"

"No," she replied thoughtfully. "I think maybe I'd like to pay a visit to Duncan. There are some things I would like to ask him."

"Yea?" His tone was casual, but she could tell he didn't like the idea. She wondered why, but didn't dwell on it.

"Yea, it's kind of personal." She told him, feeling oddly guilty, though she couldn't for the life of her think why. "Can you write down his address for me?"

"Yea," Adam replied softly. "Sure."


	14. Tessa

Buffy wasn't sure why she felt the need to visit the immortal Duncan MacLeod. Perhaps it was because of his complete ignorance of slayers that compelled her to want to speak with him. She enjoyed Adam's company, that much was certain, but she always felt slightly pressured to become the slayer he once knew. She knew it was a ridiculous thought, and he had already told her as much, but part of her wondered how much of her he saw when he smiled at her, and how much of Celine he thought he saw.

She may not like Duncan as much, but she knew he wouldn't confuse her with anybody he had loved. And he had lost someone recently as well. She remembered Richie's story about how he became immortal and about Duncan's love, Tessa.

She wondered about the woman that Richie seemed so fond of. Her thoughts had been drifting towards her after speaking with Duncan in Adam's apartment. What kind of person had she been? Duncan had loved her Richie had said. And then he had lost her.

Maybe that's why she had wanted to come here. Maybe the part of her that was desperately wanting to properly grieve Angel's death had seen something in Duncan. A healing perhaps? He didn't seem to be constantly haunted by her memory. And yet, Richie had said they were soul mates. Was Richie just being poetic? Were soul mates even possible with immortals? It was likely they loved many women in their lifetimes. Were soul mates even possible at all?  
Her mind instantly conjured Angel's image and she shook her head fiercely, slightly jarred by the intense longing that swept her being. No, soul mates existed, that much was certain. She could feel that certainty every time she pictured Angel's face.

Her short knocking on the door was answered by a very surprised Duncan MacLeod. He blinked once or twice upon seeing her, then recovered and swiftly invited her into his apartment. She looked about the place and found she quite liked it. He lived above a dojo, which Richie had mentioned that he ran. His elevator was old fashioned in a charming sort of way and his apartment seemed to contain the immortal trademark of appearing ancient yet modern in a way so few places could.

"Where's Adam?" Duncan wondered, looking past her.

"He went to see Joe." She told him as she began to walk around his living room, taking it all in. "I came here on my own."

"Any particular reason?" Duncan asked, curiosity evident. She opened her mouth, then shut it once more, embarrassed to realize she wasn't sure what to say. Finally she opted for humility.

"I came to apologize Mr. Mac…Duncan. I was rude to you before when you came to talk to me."

"You were," Duncan agreed shoving his hands in his pockets and advancing towards her. She stood near his bookshelf, admiring the odds and ends on his desks and tables. "But it wasn't without cause. I barged in and took you by surprise. I'm a complete stranger and you're in a city you don't know. I don't blame you for being rude."

"Yea, well you, Adam, Joe and Richie are the only people I know here." She smiled sheepishly. "And sarcasm never won any popularity contests."

"It must be lonely away from home." Duncan said gently. She turned away, hating the empathy she heard in his words.

"I didn't come here to talk about that." She murmured, not wanting to rehash the conversation about her loved ones that she had shared with Adam the night before. She had trusted Adam in a way she still didn't trust Duncan. She wasn't ready for him to know anything about her home.

"Then what did you come here for?" Duncan sounded almost impatient, not wanting to beat around the emotional bush any longer. As she searched for a way to respond, her eyes drifted to a photo in a frame that sat on one of Duncan's end tables. A slightly older blonde woman stared back at her, smiling in a way that seemed to light up the photo itself. This had to have been her…Duncan's love.

"She's beautiful." She heard herself say as headed towards the photo, almost forgetting Duncan was even in the room. He followed softly behind her. Running her finger over the photo, she could almost hear Tessa's laughter engulfing the room. What a woman she must have been!

"Tessa." Duncan's voice was a rasp, as if he hadn't expected the word to escape his lips and was shocked at the emotion it carried with it.

"Richie told me about her." Buffy admitted. "He said you loved her."

"Very much," Duncan whispered. He reached over her shoulder and picked up the photo. Buffy turned and gazed at the love in his eyes as he looked at it. "We were together for twelve years and it still feels like I didn't have enough time with her. Immortals…well, we never have enough. It always ends too soon, but with Tessa…she was special in a way that I'd never encountered before. Or will again."

"I'm sorry," she replied, hating the inadequacy of those words.

"I highly doubt you came to offer your sympathies." Duncan said with a shrug, although not unkindly. He set the photo down and she watched as he seemed to recompose himself as if on command. Centuries of pain must do that to you, she thought to herself. Would she ever learn to govern herself as well?

"You seem…OK about it." She ventured, not knowing where she was going with it, but needing to speak her thoughts. "You're not…wallowing in grief."

"She died a couple of years ago." Duncan responded, clearly confused. Buffy nodded, trying to quell the lump in her throat.

"But you loved her." She reiterated. "You were together for twelve years and then she died. And you seem so…well, how were you able to move past it?"

"What makes you think I did?" Duncan asked bluntly. She swallowed.

"The fact that you're able to smile." She looked away after she spoke, fearing already that she had revealed too much of her own pain. She herself found it hard to smile, even a little and she was certain Duncan had picked up on that. She felt open and exposed in front of him and didn't like the feeling.

"It never goes away Anne," He said finally after much thought. "The pain, the memories. No matter how much you move on with your life, the loss will always be there. I'll always see her face when I close my eyes. I constantly hear her voice in my dreams and whenever I have a nightmare, I see the night she died. It's always there."

"So then…how?" She spoke so quietly she wondered if Duncan had even heard her. She didn't want him to see her anguish, but she had to know.

"How do I live with it?" He chuckled humourlessly. "Time. That's really the only answer. The pain won't ever really leave, but time will teach you how to cope with it. It will teach you how to go on, when all you want to do is give up. And I know it may not seem like it, but it will teach you how to smile again."

"I guess for an immortal you would have to learn how to deal." Buffy remarked sympathetically. "She can't be the first you've lost."

Duncan shook his head and a thousand emotions played across his face, no doubt as he remembered countless others he had loved throughout his immortal life.

"No, but she was my heart." He said honestly. "I've loved a lot of women Anne, but never the way I loved her. It took me four hundred years to find her and I wouldn't trade a moment of what we had together, despite the pain I feel for losing her. I think you get one in every life, no matter how long…just one. And no matter how long it lasts, you have to hold onto it while you can and cherish it when it's gone, because you'll never get it back again."

The truth of his words hit her full force and she suddenly felt very suffocated by her surroundings. The agony of Angel's betrayed gaze cut into her once more and she knew that if she didn't get out of his apartment now, she would surely break down in front of him and that was something she refused to do. Swallowing her emotions, she backed herself towards the elevator.

"I…I have to go."

"Have I said something?" The compassion in his tone only made her feel worse.

"No, you were great, really I just have to…" she backed up further knowing she would reach the elevator soon, but not able to look back at it. "I have to go, I can't stay here. It was a mistake to come. I'm sorry for bringing up those memories Mr…Duncan. I'll talk to you…I gotta go."

As soon as the elevator reached the bottom, Buffy sucked in a desperate breath, as if she had been completely deprived of oxygen and headed for the street. She ran blindly towards Adam's apartment, tears streaming down her face knowing only that if she could just get there, she would receive the refuge she so desperately sought, at least for a little while.


	15. Disturbing Origins

Methos entered Joe's, feeling slightly nervous as he did so. He had called Joe before he left to let him know he was heading over, when Joe had informed him that he had found out more than he thought he would on the slayers and this legend. He said he knew what was going on and that Methos wouldn't like it.

After his previous night with Anne, he was even more worried than ever before. She was not ready to fight, and from the look in her eyes every time he brought it up, he wondered if she ever would be. If this legend was true and this immortal could only be stopped by her, how could Methos convince her it was her duty? Why should he even have to? Since when was the life of a slayer, ever fair to the slayer?

Taking a deep breath, he entered the bar and smiled at Joe who sat at the counter, pouring over his books. He barely looked up as Methos entered, clearly pre-occupied in his research.

"I'm glad you're here," Joe said as Methos took a seat. He couldn't help but smirk.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that Joe," he clucked his tongue at the watcher. "Are you getting soft on me?"

"Very funny old man, this is serious." Joe looked up at him again.

"Yea?" Methos was interested now. "What did you find?"

"You know anything about how the watcher's council started?" Joe asked. Methos shrugged.

"To be honest, not really. I've been through the academy training quite a few times now over the centuries and every time I do, the story changes. I don't think anybody really knows. History is like a game of telephone in most respects Joe. You keep telling a story over and over again and pretty soon it's nothing like what you started with. Look at the Bible for example."

"Yea, well Old Testament aside, there is a definite history to the origins of the council." Joe replied seriously. "And it's not something that they want everyone to know either."

"If it's that big a secret, how did you manage to get your hands on it?" Methos narrowed his eyes. Joe shrugged and averted the look.

"I know where they keep the top secret volumes." Joe admitted. "And I know a few guys who were with me in Nam, that know how to steal sensitive information without being detected. I simply called in a few favours, that's all."

"And these favours," Methos prompted. "What did they uncover?"

"Immortals and slayers have more in common than you think," Joe began. "Originally, the world was over-run with demons. When the first humans began to carve out a world for themselves, they had very little chance of succeeding against them. At that time, it was normal for some to be immortal, and some not to be. They still don't know the reason for immortals, only that they weren't demons or vampires and therefore they accepted one another. Eventually, a small group of humans and immortals stumbled across a bunch of prophecies, written for them by a mysterious people that called themselves the Guardians. They knew they had to protect these prophecies, so they formed a group and entrusted the job to them. They called the group the Watcher's Council."

"The Guardians?" Methos interrupted. Joe nodded.

"What?"

"Nothing, I've just heard stories of them that's all."

"What kind of stories?" Joe sounded impatient.

"Vague things about an apocalypse and their roll in it." Methos shrugged. "I always wrote it off as nonsense, but the rumours themselves are ancient."

"Yea, well they are also pretty good with prophecies." Joe muttered. "According to these sources, the newly found council couldn't fight the demon war all alone, even with the help of immortals. The prophecies told of a game that immortals would wage between themselves, in order to weed out the strongest one. It told of the prize and warned that whatever immortal became the last would receive unparalleled power. They already had enough problems with the demons of the world, the idea that they may have to face an immortal tyrant did not appeal to them."

"I'll bet," Methos commented.

"The council decided that if such a prize did exist, someone in the council should win it. They decided to choose their strongest fighter and have the others sacrifice their lives to him. This person would be their hope in the upcoming gathering." Joe flipped through a few more papers before continuing. "In the meantime the demons were getting stronger and stronger and immortals were spending more time killing each other, than fighting the demons. Vampires were some of the most difficult to defeat, and they wouldn't go anywhere near the immortals on account of their poisonous blood."

"This is quite the history lesson."

"It gets better," Joe continued. "They consulted the prophecies again in the hopes of finding a way to fight the vampires and other demons. The prophecies told of a….procedure…a way of creating a weapon to fight the demons, but it was not without a price."

"A weapon?" Methos echoed, puzzled. "What kind of weapon."

"Not what," Joe said heavily. "Who. The weapon was the slayer."

"What do you mean?" Methos asked, not liking the way Joe was looking at him.

"They captured a girl, and tied her up. They…did a spell. They put some of their power, and some of a vampire's power into her. And then they made her fight for them. They created the slayer out of immortal and demon strength."

"You mean they…" Methos trailed off, hating the sound of what Joe was saying.

"Forced it onto her." Joe sounded disgusted. "The poor girl didn't have a choice. They assigned her a watcher to train her…someone mortal. The immortals were growing more and more distant from the mortal watchers. They could see immortals killing each other in the game, and knew they would have to choose their warrior to fight for them. But they couldn't decide who would live, and who would die."

"I don't suppose they were clamoring to give up their lives so that someone else could have their power," Methos surmised. Joe shook his head.

"Give the man a cupie doll." He replied. "The mortal watchers began to lose trust in the immortals of the council. They came to see them as selfish…only caring about the game and not about the new slayer they had created. Eventually they separated and took the prophecies with them. The immortal watchers didn't last long."

"Let me guess, they killed each other?" It wasn't really a question, but Joe nodded nonetheless.

"Until only one was left. By this time the mortal watchers wanted nothing to do with immortals. They feared that no matter who one the prize, they would ultimately be a tyrant. They hoped that the slayer would be able to take care of them when that happened. In the meantime, they decided it was necessary to take care of the only immortal left that knew of the watcher's council and the slayer's existence."

"The immortal watcher that was left." Methos muttered. "They killed him?"

"She killed him." Joe told him with a shake of his head. "They sent the slayer to take his head. And with him gone, there were no immortals left that knew of their existence. They decided to split the council into two branches. One would watch and train the slayer and her successors and the other would watch and chronicle the immortals so that when the time came…"

"They could use the poor girl as an assassin again!" Methos exclaimed. "That's sick."

"Yea, well I'm not terribly proud of it either." Joe muttered. "But that's not important. What's important is the connection between slayers, vampires and immortals."

"What do you mean?"  
"Well, you remember I told you that creating the slayer was not without a price?"

"I should hope not." Methos said darkly.

"Well the penalty for that was pretty steep. Since it took all three essences to create the slayer, they are all very powerful when combined in a pure way. That's why immortal blood is poisonous to vampires. If vampires were to become immortal, then kill and drink a slayer…"

"Then they would have all three power sources." Methos finished for Joe, suddenly understanding the enormity of what he was saying. "But they took steps to make sure it didn't happen. Immortal blood is poisonous…or was. What changed? And why does Anne feel like she's immortal?"

"Well just like a vampire or immortal could somehow combine and reach total power, so could the slayer. The prophecy warned that if the slayer were to receive the immortal essence in its pure form through death, then she would have to face an immortal who managed to gain the power of a vampire to counter it. The immortal/vampire would only be possible if the slayer were to transcend mortality and tap into her immortal heritage."

"Anne died." Methos murmured to himself. "That's how she did it. That's why I can feel the quickening inside her."

"Yea, well that's not all that's inside." Joe said darkly. "Because she has managed to tap into the immortal essence within, the vampire darkness inside her has also been heightened. It was only logical that a vampire/immortal be created, and even more logical that he should be drawn to, and target the slayer. He can feel her blood calling to him."

"So what happens if he kills her?" Methos didn't want to ask the question, but knew the answer was crucial. Joe frowned.

"Then he becomes the most powerful immortal in existence." He said simply. "Nobody will be able to stand against him. He will almost certainly win the prize and when he does…."

"Eternal damnation, tyranny, the whole drill, I get it." Methos sighed. "Who is this guy? I mean, what's his name? How did he get picked to be the one to go after Anne?"

"I don't know his name," Joe replied. "But whoever he is, he was most likely chosen by a very old vampire. A vampire old enough to know the legend and believe in it enough to overcome the poison and transfer his power to an immortal somehow. That part itself I'm fuzzy on. What I do know, is that he won't stop. Her blood will call to him and he will go after her again."

"What happens if she beats him?" Methos wondered. "Did the prophecy say anything about that? I mean, if she takes his head, then she'll get his quickening…will the power corrupt her?"

"I don't know." Joe said heavily. "I wish I had the answers to that, but the Guardian prophecies either didn't say, or the answers were lost somewhere. It's a chance she'll have to take. What I do know is that if he kills her, he will become unstoppable. I'd say it's worth the risk."

"The Guardians knew this would happen and still they let those foolish men transform that poor girl." Methos growled angrily. "They knew that someday she would have to fight this creature, possibly be corrupted if she wins…she's not ready Joe!"

"Still refuses to fight huh?" Joe sighed sadly. "What should we do Adam? Call the slayer branch? Maybe her watcher can…"

"No," Methos said firmly. "She would never forgive me if I betrayed her trust like that."

"This isn't about weather she will still like you man, this is about her life!" Joe exclaimed. "We don't know her. We don't know what she's gone through. How can we convince her it's the right thing to do?"

"We won't convince her of anything if we call her watcher. Believe me Joe." Methos searched his mind trying to think of a way to convince him. "I've gotten to know her over the last few days and I know that she will only run if we call them. If she does, the guy will follow her and we won't be able to help her. We have to play this safe. We can't scare her off."

"Well we have to do something!" Joe insisted. "This isn't about her anymore, this is bigger than her problems."

"I know that Joe." Methos replied through gritted teeth. "And I will make her see reason, I promise you, but we can't call her watcher or pry into her old life."

"How much longer are you going to keep protecting her?" Joe wondered. "How much longer are you going to pretend she's your responsibility? You're not her watcher Methos!"

"No I'm not," he said angrily. "But I am her friend. Look I said she'll be ready and I mean it, but you have to promise me you won't sell her out."

"You already know I won't." Joe said with a wave of his hand. "But you gotta do something old man. I know what happened to her wasn't fair, but this isn't about that anymore."

"I know." Methos stood up and headed towards the door. "I'll get her to fight Joe. I will. I won't fail her."


	16. Introducing Klossen

Methos left Joe's bar, angry at both himself and at the young slayer, who for some reason had gotten further under his skin than he ever realized. What the hell did it matter to him whether she wanted to fight or not? Caring about her feelings was Duncan's territory. If she didn't fight this immortal/vampire who knows what could happen to both their worlds? Why should her pain matter when it came down to all those lives that could potentially be lost if she should fall?

And yet it did matter. It mattered a lot. The look he saw on her face when she didn't think he was looking reminded him so much of himself, that it almost physically hurt. He didn't know precisely what it was she had done in her past, but he had the feeling it had to do with a lover. And he knew for a fact that she blamed herself. Anybody could tell, simply by looking at her that she took too much on. It was the curse of the slayer to feel personally responsible for what happened to those they loved. And of the watchers who guarded them…although some more than others.

He desperately wanted to know what had happened to her, but knew that using his watcher contacts to pry into her past would destroy any trust she may consider placing in him. But they were running out of time. Methos knew from what Joe had told him that the immortal/vampire that attacked them before would be back and when that happened, he would not allow another blunder. He couldn't always be around to protect her, but the idea that he should watch another slayer die was unacceptable.

Rounding the corner, he tripped over something in the middle of the sidewalk, then stopped to see what it was. He drew in a breath as he took in the site of a dead young woman lying on the sidewalk with her throat slit. He looked around, trying to get a glimpse of whoever it was that had been responsible. He saw nobody, but after a few seconds he began to feel the immortal buzz. He recognized it instantly as the buzz of the immortal/vampire that had attacked the slayer earlier.

Within seconds, the man stepped out of the shadows, smiling at first, but then his smile dropping as he noticed it was Methos and not the slayer.

"I thought you'd be her."

"Sorry, I gave up cross dressing centuries ago." He smirked. "I make a terrible woman."

"Your sarcasm does not amuse me." The immortal/vampire sneered. Methos shrugged.

"Yea, well I guess that's why my career as a standup comic never took off." He retorted. He glanced at the dead woman. "This your work?"

"A present." The immortal/vampire replied. "I thought the slayer would be exiting the bar. I had her all prepared for her."

"What the hell do you want?" Methos growled, hating the level of evil he could see in this man's eyes.

"What do you think?" The man replied. "You're immortal like me, I presume you know the legend. I want her blood. It's the last thing I need to complete my power. But she seems to want to hide."

"So this was meant to draw her out?" Methos couldn't keep the disgust from his voice. The man grinned.

"I planned on letting them pile up outside your door, but I haven't got any ribbon to wrap them in." He shrugged. "And now you've gone and ruined the surprise."

"Well, I'm truly sorry for that." Methos replied in a tone that said anything but.

"Perhaps I will have to settle for your headless body at her doorstep." The man said, advancing on Methos. He backed up, hating himself as he did so. "You think she'll come out of hiding then?"

"She doesn't care about me," Methos told him. "We're barely even acquaintances. My death won't break her heart."

"Why are you so eager to protect her then?" The man wondered. "You're a terrible liar Adam Pierson."

"You have me at a disadvantage," Methos said, not even slightly threatened by the fact that the immortal/vampire seemed to know his fake immortal persona. "You know my name, but I have yet to learn yours."

"Alexander Klossen not that it matters," the man said with a shrug. "And you haven't answered my question. Why are you so eager to protect this slayer? Why not give her up to me? I'd let you stand at my right hand once I receive my power. I can see it in your eyes Pierson, you're a man who enjoys power."

"And you're a man who is clearly insane." Methos replied. "But I'd prefer not to get picky. Thanks for the offer, but I'll stick to the side that doesn't put me in a room with rubber walls."

"And the slayer?" Klossen prompted.

"I'm a great humanitarian." Methos said simply.

"You're a foolish creature," Klossen spat.

"Look, are you going to kill me or talk me to death?"

"I have a better idea," Klossen said, a determined glint in his eyes. He advanced on Methos, sword at the ready. Methos raised his sword to fight back, fully determined that if he should fall this day it would be with a sword in his hand, the way any immortal was supposed to go. He'd had a fair run. His only regret was not having one last beer before the end.


	17. Resurrecting the Slayer

Buffy clutched her sides tightly as she sobbed in the darkness of Adam's apartment, convinced the pain would never end. She hadn't properly grieved after killing him, preferring to avoid thinking of him as best she could. Some nights, in order to keep the emotion at bay, she almost convinced herself that he wasn't dead and that the whole situation was a nightmare that she would soon wake up from.

Talking with Duncan had changed all that. He had made it real, so real that she just couldn't handle it anymore. She had run all the way home from his dojo, desperately needing the sanctity of Adam's apartment.

She had collapsed on the couch, not even caring if Adam was back from Joe's yet and dissolved into helpless tears that she hadn't been able to stop. She had never felt so lost, so hopelessly heartbroken. Not even Angel becoming Angelus had been this painful. It felt as if she was being ripped in two and the other half of her was stuck in whatever hell dimension she had sent Angel to.

Angel, her Angel. The only wrong he had ever committed was to love her. It was all her fault. She had destroyed the one perfect thing in her life in the cruelest way possible. She had given him his moment of perfect happiness and he had died for it She wanted to be punished. She wanted the emotional feeling of being ripped in two to become literal. She needed to be punished. No matter how much she suffered it couldn't compare to whatever he was going through all because of her. How could she take any of their advice and go on with her life after what she had done?

It would never end, she knew this now. Duncan's attempt to tell her that time could heal her pain was clearly untrue. This was something that would never heal, could never heal. She didn't want it to. She didn't want these tears to ever stop and yet, it felt like they would destroy her.

She didn't hear the door to the apartment opening. She didn't hear the footsteps coming towards her. She was completely oblivious to the other presence in the room, until it grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. She gulped back her sobs as she stared into the angry, slightly bloodied face of Adam Pierson.

"Adam…" she trailed off, completely shocked.

"I'm fine." He said shortly. "The wounds have healed."

"What happ…"

"The immortal/vampire's name is Alexander Klossen." Adam snapped. "He paid me a visit outside of Joe's. I got off easy considering."

"Considering what?" She asked, a lead-like feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. "What happened Adam?"

"You really want to know?" He hissed, his eyes flashing an anger she hadn't seen before. "A young girl is dead on the sidewalk outside of Joe's thanks to that psycho that's what happened."

"Who…who was she?" Buffy was ghost white now, as the full implications of what Adam was saying hit her.

"What the hell does it matter Anne?" He exclaimed. "She's dead."

"What did he do to you?" She asked, wanting to keep her mind off the fact that both she and Adam knew this was all her fault.

"It doesn't matter," Adam growled. "I'll live, I'm immortal remember?"

"You can still be killed." Buffy said quietly, brushing away the tears that still adorned her face. "Why did he let you live?"

"To deliver you a message." Adam told her with a grimness that made her heart sink. He pointed in the direction of the door, though Buffy knew he was referring to the sidewalk where the girl had died when he did. "That girl was the message. He's killing innocent people now Anne. He's doing it to get to you. Are you proud of yourself? Do you like what you've become?"

"I didn't kill that girl." She protested, though it sounded weak even to herself. She didn't know how much more guilt or responsibility she could take. She already saw Angel's accusing eyes in her dreams, she couldn't possibly feel the guilt of a faceless dead girl on top of it. It was just too much.

"You might as well have." Adam said coldly. She felt like she had been punched in the gut as she looked at him. Never had she seen such disgust on someone's face. "More will die Anne, that's the message. Are you going to pretend you're not responsible for them too?"

"I'm not pretending anything," she snapped back. "I didn't ask for him to come after me. He's half immortal, which makes him half your problem as much as mine. Besides, what makes you think that I could kill him where you failed?"

"Glad to see your maturity shining through," Adam said sarcastically. "You're the slayer, only you can kill this thing. Not me, not Duncan, and not that poor girl out there."

"I'm not buying the false nobility Adam, it's not your style." She shot back.

"What the hell do you know about my style?" He countered furiously. "You don't know anything about me. I've lived a long life child and not all of it has been noble. But you didn't see that girl out there. You didn't see what he did to her. And if I could have killed him, I would have. The point is I tried. You won't even learn how to use a bloody sword."

"I know how to use a sword." She whispered, shaking now but unable to figure out why.

"Do you?" He was in her face now and Buffy could feel herself backing away, unable to meet his eyes. "Because so far all I've seen from you when you touch one is you freezing up and shaking like a heroine addict."

"That's none of your business," she stammered, turning from him and trying desperately to stop her body from trembling.

"More of this 'poor me I've seen so much' crap, eh?" He grabbed a towel and angrily wiped the dried blood from his face. "Spare me slayer, my sympathy's about run out."

"What the hell do you want from me?" She burst out, unable to keep the tears from cascading down her face yet again. She could not have hated herself anymore than she did at this moment, trembling and crying in front of a man who clearly now despised her for her weakness.

"I want to see the slayer, not this wounded child!" He crossed the room with rapid strides and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, desperate to shake some sense into her. "I want to see you fight the next time that thing attacks-and he will-not just give up. Damn it, I know you're stronger than this!"

"Why? Because I'm the slayer? Because these powers were forced on me?" She shoved him back, allowing her anger to take over completely. "You don't even see a person when you look at me do you? Did you even see one in her? Or did you treat your slayer like a weapon to be used and traded in for a better model when she finally failed you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." Adam said quietly, but with no less force.

"Don't I?" She countered, feeling like she had somehow gained the upper hand in the argument. "You're just like all the others. You watchers don't care what we have to go through as long as we fight your battles, win your wars. You have no idea what each and every slayer has to give up so that you and everyone else can sleep safely at night and what do you do about it? You watch. What did you do for her? Did you watch her die like every other watcher Adam? Did you even try to save her?"

"Shut up," his voice was a distinct warning, but Buffy was past caring.

"Did you tell yourself it wasn't your fault? That she was supposed to die? One slayer dies, the next one's called right? It's not your problem. It's her fight, not yours."

"Shut up!" Adam's voice was more forceful now and Buffy noticed his fists had gone white, he was clenching them so hard. But she couldn't be stopped now.

"I'm right aren't I?" She was glaring straight into his eyes now, refusing to back down, even for a second. "You never really loved her. You can't love someone you're using. What killed her Adam? Was it a mission you sent her on?"

"You don't know a damn thing about love, you selfish child!" Adam grabbed her shoulders yet again and shoved her angrily against the wall that joined the kitchen and living room. "How could you, when all you think of is yourself? You stupid girl, people are dead! I'm sorry the world has been unfair to you, but you have no idea what happened to me, or my slayer and attacking me on her behalf will never justify your actions, or should I say inactions. I can see I've wasted my pity and my time."

"I don't want your pity," she said, tight lipped with anger. "And I don't need your time. You want me out, just say it and I'm gone."

"Great, more running." He said sarcastically. "I'm sure that seems like the perfect solution to all your problems. If you go now, he will follow you and kill you and I'm not going to let that happen."

"Why not?" She exclaimed, feeling trapped and claustrophobic by her position against the wall and the intense anger in his eyes. "You can barely stand to look at me, why should you care if I die or not? I'm not her Adam, I'm not Celine. You don't know who I am."

"How can I when you won't tell me?" He exclaimed. "You won't give me any clue as to what did this to you. And yet, I care about you. That's what makes me so angry, Anne. I don't see her when I look at you, you can be sure of that. I see a confused young slayer that I desperately want to help. But you won't let me in. You won't let me know."

"You wouldn't like me any more if you knew." She finally whispered, her breath catching as she spoke. "I'm not a slayer Adam, I'm a monster. Don't you see? I'm not worthy of your admiration, or your anger."

"You have no idea what a monster is," Adam warned. He never felt more like a stranger to her than he did with those words.

"I…I'm sorry, about the girl…about what he did to her." She forced the words out, knowing that speaking them meant admitting at least partial responsibility.

"Don't be sorry." He said. "Be who you are. Be the slayer."

"I…I don't know that I can," she whispered shamefully. A tear slipped down her cheek.

Adam stepped back and pulled his Ivanhoe from wherever he kept it hidden. He then offered it to her, flat against the palm of his hands. She tried to recoil at the sight of it, but the wall she was against prevented it.

"Take it." He was saying. She shook her head furiously, trying to keep the images at bay.

"No," she said as she started to shake.

"Take it." He said again, a little louder this time. She hesitated still and the cold fury returned to his tone. "Take it damn you!"

"Don't you see that I can't?" She cried back.

With a growl, he clutched the hilt of the sword and raised it over his head as if intending to strike. Buffy reacted instinctively as he brought the blade down, by ducking the swish of the blade, then tripping Adam with a leg sweep, and watching him crash to the ground. She stepped away from him, hoping that he wouldn't attack again, but was not so lucky. He stood and came at her once more, an agility in his movements that Buffy knew could only be acquired through centuries of practice. He brought the blade down again and this time, she was only able to partially avoid it. His swing caught the outside of her arm, creating a fairly shallow cut.

"Don't do this Adam." She warned.

"Why not?" He asked her. "You won't fight back. You can't." He came at her again, missing her cheek by a disturbingly small margin.

"It's a nice try, but you're not going to force me to take your sword."

"I'm not trying to force you." He replied simply as he regrouped for another attack. "I'm trying to kill you."

Buffy gave a short, disbelieving laugh, but it was cut off abruptly by the look in Adam's eyes.

"You wouldn't kill me." She bluffed, for she could see just by looking at him that he was not above such an act. A cold realization passed through her, telling her that he had almost certainly killed innocent people in the past and whoever he had been then was not buried deep enough that he couldn't be resurrected if the need arose.

"Wouldn't I?" He countered, circling her now, waiting it seemed for the perfect opening. "I've tried everything Anne. I've tried reason, I've tried sympathy, I've tried understanding. I'm a watcher. It's my duty to see that the slayer does hers. This is the only solution. Your death will bring on another slayer and hopefully she will be more willing to co-operate."

"My death already called another slayer," Buffy spat. "And she's dead. But for all I know, her death as activated someone else. Why don't you find her to go on your suicide mission?"

"I don't believe you." Adam said simply as he lunged once more. Buffy managed to grab hold of a broomstick just in time for the sword to slice right through it as she used it to defend herself.

"And I don't believe you'll actually kill me." She said again, this time less sure of herself. You don't have it in you Adam."

"My name isn't Adam Pierson," he said darkly. "It's Methos. I am the oldest living immortal and you don't get to a position like that by being nice. You may be the slayer, but I am a killer. And if you can't do your duty, then I must do mine. It's the only solution."

"Why do I always end up hanging out with mass murderers?" She exclaimed aloud, suddenly seething with anger. The sword came at her again, but this time she was prepared. As it came down towards her head, she reached out with her hand and grabbed the blade, biting her lip as it sliced into her hand. With a swift yank, she managed to wrest the blade from Methos and flip it around before he could react. Her body became charged suddenly as his face disappeared and Angelus' appeared before her. She felt like a person possessed. This man was a killer. He had destroyed everything she had once, and now he was doing it again.

It didn't matter to her that Methos was not Angelus. To her they were now one in the same. Both killers, both trying to destroy her in some way or another. And if she could kill once, she could do it again.

"You really thought you could take me?" She yelled, her voice rising to near hysterical pitch.

"I'm not dead yet," he said calmly, staring without even blinking at the sword in her hand. She barely noticed its presence. "Come on then, do your worst."

With a cry of pure fury she launched herself at him, not even noticing it when the sword sliced through his abdomen and tore through his chest. She blinked as he fell to his knees, blood pouring out of the wound, which was certainly mortal. She looked down at him, unable to believe what she had just done.

"You did it," he whispered gently, almost proudly. "Now finish it. Take my head."

"No," she breathed, backing away and staring at the blood that now coated her hands. "Oh God, Adam I'm sorry!"

"Methos," he murmured, before he fell over and died.


	18. Healing

The first thing Methos became aware of when he felt life fill his body for what could only be numbering in the billionth of times, was that all the lights in the apartment had been turned out. It was dark, but Methos knew that Anne was still here. He could feel it.

Slowly, he stood up, re-orientating himself and feeling incredibly glad that his hunch about Anne had paid off. If he had read her wrong, she might have taken his head. It wasn't a gamble that Methos adopted lightly. He knew that the only thing to do now was to tell her the truth. He had a feeling that telling her how Celine had died might set her free, or at least start her on that path.

Softly he knocked on the door to the guest room. When he received no answer, he took the liberty of slowly opening it and turning on the light.

She didn't even flinch. He watched as she sat on the bed, head bowed tears running down her cheeks, almost as an afterthought and staring at a Claddagh ring that she held in her hand.

"Did he give that to you?" He spoke gently, hoping not to alarm her. She looked as if she were standing on the edge of something and Methos knew he had to tread softly. She gave a small nod, but said nothing. Methos took a deep breath and tried to think of a way to broach the subject of Celine. Finally, he figured that telling her straight out was the only way to do it.

"I killed her." She looked at him, her face a mask of confusion. "My slayer. My…my Celine. I killed her."

"I…I'm sorry about what I said to you." She said, her voice a ragged whisper. "I didn't mean that it was your fault that she died. Slayers….slayers die."

"No, Anne," Methos interrupted gently. "I really did kill her. She died at my hands."

Anne paused and went rigid, suddenly staring at him as if he were the most terrifying and familiar creature she had ever seen.

"You…" she trailed off, looking frantically to the ring in her hand, then back to him as if asking it for answers. "You….why?"

"I had to," he replied simply, though the memories that coursed through him reminded him that it had been anything but simple. "She…she fought a vampire who was stronger than she was. I knew it. I tried to convince her not to face him just yet….to tell her that she wasn't ready, but she didn't listen. She was convinced that she had to stop him as soon as she could. She was the slayer, you know?" He chuckled humourlessly. "I followed her the night she went out to face him. I watched the battle. I wanted to help her, but she wouldn't let me. It was her duty, she told me. So I did what any good watcher does. I watched her fight him. And I watched him defeat her. And I went after him, fully intending to destroy him. But he got away."

"That still doesn't mean you killed her." Anne was finally watching him now, but her fist still clutched the ring as if it were a lifeline. Methos reached out, and covered her small hand in his, lending her whatever strength he felt he had to give as he continued his story.

"You don't understand Anne," he told her with a small sigh and shake of his head. "The vampire didn't kill her. I stopped him before he got the chance, but it was already too late."

"Well if he didn't kill her…"

"She was paralyzed." Methos replied quietly. "Her spine had been…well, even with her slayer healing she'd never walk again. She knew that and accepted that before I was willing to. That's when she asked me to end her life."

"She what?" Anne croaked.

"She asked me to take her life." Methos repeated the words, seeing almost as clear as day the determined gaze of his beautiful Celine staring back at him as he shook his head no. "She was the slayer Anne, and that was always the most important thing in the world to her. Even more important than me. The fact that she would no longer be able to do the duty she had been chosen for wounded her deeply. And if it had just affected her, than I'm sure I could have made her forget that in time. But with her still alive, no slayer could be called to take her place. And Celine wouldn't allow the world to go without a slayer. So she asked me to end her life, and activate a new girl to take her place."

"And you…" Anne swallowed heavily. "You did? Just like that?"

"No, I resisted at first." Methos admitted. "I didn't have her dedication. I couldn't bring myself to care weather a new slayer was ever called into the world. I loved her. But she loved the job. And every day she asked me to do it, and every day I told her no. I think she began to hate me after a while."

"But you did it eventually?" Anne was gazing at him intently now, but what she was thinking Methos wasn't sure. He nodded however, and finished his story.

"The Council eventually got wind of what happened. They sent me letters upon letters, telling me to do my duty as her watcher and activate a new slayer. Finally, they sent a notice, telling me that if I wouldn't do it, they would send a team that would. I couldn't bear the thought of the council executing her, especially after forcing her into that life to begin with, so I…I told her I would do it. She was so happy. And I felt like such a failure. But I did it. I killed her. And then I left the council."

She was silent for a long while after he told her. Gently she pulled her hand out of his and opened it to gaze once more at the Claddagh ring, as if trying to make up her mind about something. Finally, she met his gaze once more.

"Buffy." Was all she said. He blinked in confusion.

"I'm sorry, what did you call me?"

She chuckled softly, for the first time in an almost genuine way.

"No, that's my name." She told him. "Buffy Summers. My middle name is Anne. I decided to use it after I left. Besides, it's not like it's any stranger than Methos, what kind of name is that anyway?"

"A very very old one." He said sadly, but there was relief in his heart. Something in her already looked lighter and he felt a rush of warmth at the idea that he might have something to do with it. He pointed to the ring. "You want to tell me about him?"

"Not much to tell," she said airily, but the look in her eyes said otherwise. He smiled warmly and took her hand once more.

"Now now slayer," he chided. "I showed you mine. Remember our deal?" She nodded and reluctantly began to tell him of her romance to the vampire Angel and of his turn to Angelus and then of her final battle with him. Methos watched as the heartbreak of what she had gone through, so like what he had experienced, unfold before him. He clutched both of her hands tightly, letting her know that he was here and that the memories she was sharing with him would ultimately help heal her. When she got to the end of her story, she began to falter again.

"I beat him. He was on the ground, and I knew that it was time…that I had to kill him. But I hesitated for a split second, and something happened." She swallowed back a quiet sob as she continued. "Something…went through him…a light of some kind. I didn't know what, or how, but it was him again. His soul was back. The moment he said my name, I knew. And I watched as he stood and looked at me as if I were the most wonderful thing in the world to him. He didn't remember anything about what had happened. He touched my arm….the wound he had inflicted. And he pulled me close to him. And for one beautiful moment I couldn't do it. There was no way. All I could do was hold him, and whisper that I loved him. But the portal was opening behind us, and reality caught up to me. I had to do it. So I told him to close his eyes, gave him one last kiss, and drove my sword through his chest."

"Buffy…" Methos tried to reach out to her, but she brushed him away.

"I stepped back and saw the look on his face." She angrily brushed the tears out of her eyes. "I've never seen him look at me that way before. It was as if…as if he didn't know me. I betrayed him, and he knew it. He knew what I had done, but he didn't know why. And then he was gone."

"I can't even begin to pretend that I know how to help you." Methos finally whispered. "But I know how you feel, if only a little. And that's something."

"Yes," she murmured back. "I suppose it is."

"Celine knew why I did what I did, but that didn't make it any easier even with her permission." He let go of her hands for a moment while he moved himself to sit beside her on the bed. "What you did, you won't forget. It might haunt you for a long time. And I wish I could do what I did when Celine got hurt and pretend that a slayer isn't needed in the world, but that isn't the case. The world needs you."

"He needed me." Her voice was small and lost. "I needed him. I loved him so much. And I destroyed him."

"Buffy I understand that you're hurting, but…"

"I know." She cut him off, her voice stronger now, renewed in a way that filled him with hope. "I know what I have to do. And I know that I'll end up doing it. I think I knew from the very beginning that this wasn't something that I could hide from. Every time I try to quit it doesn't work. But I'm not ready just yet. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to…tonight I just want to remember him, you know?"

"I know." He reached out, and gently stroked her hair, bringing her head to his chest and enfolding the small girl in a strong embrace.


	19. Joe's Place Is Holy

"So you not only got the guy's name, but you got away with your life?" Joe Dawson sounded fairly incredulous the following day as Buffy and Methos collectively explained what they knew about the immortal/vampire Alexander Klossen.

"He wanted Methos to tell me about the dead girl." Buffy said grimly. "But he also wants us to know that he's not afraid of us, and that he can take any one of us out at any time. Not only is he strong, but he's got the psychological advantage."

"Yea, well pardon me if I don't find that a comfort." Joe muttered. He shook his head. "I still can't believe he didn't take your head. Man, you are one lucky sonofabitch, you know that?"

"You're forgetting that he thinks I'm Adam Pierson, a relatively young immortal." Methos said with a shrug. "If he knew who I really was, he'd have taken my head in a heartbeat. He may have a psychological advantage, but I have a better one."

"What's that?" Buffy asked curiously. Methos grinned.

"Cowardice."

"Yea, well I think you're getting lax in your old age," Joe said, nodding in Buffy's direction. Methos waved a dismissive hand.

"She can be trusted Joe."

Buffy watched the look that passed between Methos and Joe and knew that the secret of his identity was one he did not share lightly. She felt incredibly privileged that he had been willing to risk it where she was concerned and vowed to do her best not to let him down. The night before had been difficult. It wasn't something she wanted to experience ever again, but something else had transpired that night. Something that was almost comforting.

She still felt the pain of killing Angel every second that she breathed, but it didn't seem to suffocate her the same way that it had before she told him. When she looked at him, she saw she wasn't alone and it made it a little bit easier to bear. She couldn't go back to Sunnydale, and she wasn't sure that if she did fight she wouldn't lose, but at least she had Methos in her corner. He believed in her, and he didn't think she was a monster. Whatever else happened, that meant something to her.

"So what was this guy's name then?" Joe was asking as he pulled out a laptop from behind the bar.

"Klossen," Methos supplied. "Alexander Klossen."

"What are you doing?" Buffy wondered.

"Checking the Watcher's database to see if Klossen is in here. We don't know what vampire turned him, but we could possibly find out something about the immortal he was before the change."

"That's the part I don't get," Buffy interrupted. Methos had told her before getting to Joe's that Klossen had somehow managed to combine both the vampire's essence and his immortal one, needing only her blood and quickening to complete a deadly triad. However, she had a feeling that he had been holding out on her with some of the information and hoped that Joe wouldn't think to spare her. "I mean, you said that immortal blood was poisonous to vampires. So if that's true, how did a vampire manage to turn Klossen? It would be suicide wouldn't it? Speaking from experience let me tell you that they aren't the least bit altruistic and unless they have bleached blonde hair, they won't under any circumstances give up their lives for someone else's."

"As far as I can tell, whatever vampire turned him didn't." Joe replied. "There's an ancient ritual that a vampire can perform that will allow their own sort of…personality to be transferred and merged with the immortal. I'm pretty sure that's what happened. Basically there's two of them inside and if they end up draining you Anne…"

"Three." She answered heavily, understanding all too fully the implications. Looking back to Joe who was still at the computer, she frowned. "And you're sure you can find Klossen in that database? Shouldn't we be looking at some books or something?"

"We made the database to get rid of the books." Joe told her. "And not without difficulty either, let me tell you. The books were too bulky."

"Never thought I'd hear a watcher say that," she murmured thinking of Giles and wondering when she too had developed his mistrust of computers. Maybe it was the fact that it was the elderly Joe Dawson behind the screen and not Willow that was making her uneasy.

"I take it this means you'll fight this guy when we have the proper information on him?" Joe was saying. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and looked back at the watcher. He was staring at her intently and she couldn't help but shrink back slightly.

"I…I guess." She finally told him.

"You're going to need more commitment than that." Duncan MacLeod said from behind as the door swung closed behind him. She noticed that Richie Ryan, the kid she had met in the bar before walked beside him.

"Back off Mac," Methos told his friend in a warning tone. Buffy shook her head and touched Methos' shoulder lightly.

"It's OK," she told him. "I get what Duncan's saying. And I might not be at full slayer commitment yet, but I'm aiming for it OK?"

"Fair enough." Duncan answered, staring at her curiously. She knew the others were all wondering what had affected her change in attitude. She wasn't sure what to tell them. She didn't want them to know the details of why she left. Only Methos could fully understand what she had done. She couldn't bear to tell the story again, especially when they wouldn't understand. Still, she knew if she was ever going to stop running and start fresh she would have to be at least somewhat honest. It seemed partial truths were the way to go.

"Oh, and for the record, my name is Buffy Summers."

"Buffy?" Richie pronounced the name and made a funny face as he did so. She glared at him, and he backed off.

"So what made you change your mind?" Duncan was asking her. There was the hard question. Buffy wasn't sure what to tell them. Stealing a look in Methos' direction, she took a deep breath.

"Look, to be honest, I don't want to talk about it." She gestured towards Methos. "When Methos came in and told me about the dead girl and I saw how badly Klossen had beat him I kinda wigged OK? Let's just leave it at that."

"The great and powerful Methos taken down twice!" Richie snickered to himself. "That must do wonders for your self esteem old man. Pretty soon you're gonna start needing Viagra just to get your sword up."

"One more crack from you kid and you'll really see what my sword can do." Methos growled.

"I'm confused, was that a homoerotic pass at me, or were you threatening bodily harm?" Richie's voice was puzzled, but still joking. Methos sighed and grabbed the kid by his ear until he cried uncle. Buffy watched the interplay and suddenly missed the Scooby gang more than ever. Richie's antics reminded her fiercely of Xander and Methos' responses, oddly of Cordelia, but that could just have been Richie's homoerotic comment talking.

She missed them desperately but was starting to feel more and more that her absence could only be better for them. With her gone, they could live normal lives. Maybe Giles could even find someone again. It had been her fault that Jenny was killed. Her relationship with Angel had led to his change and ultimately her death. Maybe without her they could find some peace. And maybe someday she would learn to joke around with this group of people with the same ease that she had done so with her old friends.

"Hey I found Klossen!" Joe exclaimed, turning the screen of the laptop to face them.

"What does it say?" Buffy was stuck behind Duncan and Methos, both of which were far taller than her and blocking her view.

"All bad news I'm afraid." Duncan replied. "He's killed a lot of immortals and from all watcher accounts up until now, he's pretty psychotic."

"An evil psychotic immortal," Methos mused. "It's a wonder you haven't run into him before Mac."

"Funny." Duncan said dryly.

"So…what do we do now?" Buffy wondered. "I mean, looking him up is fine and well. We did, and now we have Klossen's greatest hits in front of us, but that still doesn't get us any closer to figuring out how to beat him. This whole database find is seeming pretty square-one-y to me."

"She's right." Methos agreed. "What about Klossen's watcher, Joe? You think you could get a hold of him and maybe ask him some questions about where our boy has been or what he's planning? I mean surely the council must know by now what this guy has become."

"That's a good point." Joe said with a nod. "I'll put in a call to headquarters."

"Great, but what do we do in the meantime?" Buffy asked anxiously. "He said more would die, and I don't know about you, but standing around in this bar doesn't seem to be the safest place to be holed up. I mean, he could come in here at any time without an invitation and challenge me and I'm nowhere near ready to face him."

"He can come in, but he can't take your head." Methos assured her. "Immortals can't fight on holy ground."

"I know you love beer man, but not everybody is gonna consider Joe's holy ground." Richie put in. Methos rolled his eyes.

"Joe had the place blessed by a priest this morning Richie." He retorted. "We're holy ground all right. I just don't know why he didn't do it the second he became Mac's watcher. I mean, he's an evil immortal magnet."

"I guess that's why I hang around you," Duncan replied smoothly. Methos looked slightly surprised at Duncan's response, but recovered quickly.

"Touche."

"OK, fine, I'm in church land." She looked towards the others, trying not to let them see her worry. "I still don't know how to fight."

"I believe that's why Methos called me." Duncan said as he slowly pulled his dragonhead katana from wherever it was that he kept it. "Are you ready to begin training then?"


	20. The Amateur and the Practice Dummy

The following day, Methos found himself at Duncan's dojo, watching the Scotsman train the slayer in the finer parts of the sword. Richie was there too for sparring purposes, as Duncan felt that it would be best to start her off with someone she could potentially defeat in order to gain her confidence. Richie had taken mild offense to the idea, but agreed to help out nonetheless.

Secretly, Methos didn't think that Richie would pose much of a challenge to the slayer, but he figured that given time, Duncan would cease to underestimate her talents and teach her what it was she really needed to know.

He considered teaching her himself, especially after her revelation to him about why she had run away, but felt it was best that she have an impartial teacher. Where before he wanted nothing to do with slayers, and the legacy they carried with them, now he was far too connected with the young girl to do her justice as a teacher. He cared about her, and wanted to keep her safe. And after learning her story, he respected greatly, and respect was not something he dolled out lightly. No, he couldn't train her. He was too close for that. Should something happen to her, it would be because he inadequately prepared her. He did not want to fail her the way he failed Celine.

Duncan was the best, and he was not burdened with the problem of caring overly much for his charge. Methos knew it was for the best and yet he felt compelled to watch the training, to make sure that Duncan's instructions were helpful and would save her in the fight she would soon undertake. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't forget the infinitely fragile nature of slayers.

"All right," Duncan was saying to her as she lifted the sword he had lent her and proceeded to inspect the weight of it, and how it felt in her hand. He could tell she was still uneasy handling the weapon and hoped that his presence there would also help with that. Unless she could begin to think of the weapon as an extension of herself, she would be useless against Klossen. Methos was determined to help her with that, any way he could. "Now, Richie will be your opponent. We'll start you off slow, so that you can learn the basics."

"The basics?" She raised an eyebrow and Methos felt himself smile. Duncan was underestimating her even more than he had thought.

"Well you're a beginner Buffy, so I'm giving you a partner of the same calibre. I figure with your strength and his minimal experience, it will just about even out." Duncan smiled as if satisfied with his estimate, while both Richie and Buffy glowered.

"I'm not that much of a beginner Mac," Richie muttered. "I've beaten some pretty tough immortals, if you recall."

"And I know the 'basics', as you call them." Buffy added darkly. "I have used a sword before. I defeated a very difficult opponent with it." She cast a quick glance in Methos' direction, who smiled gently as she spoke. He was encouraged by her ability to speak openly of Angel, even within the veiled context. Duncan seemed blind to both of their protests, however.

"I am not trying to patronize either of you." He assured them. Both of them scoffed.

"Of course not," Buffy said sarcastically, "you just called me an amateur and Richie a practice dummy!"

"Hey!" Richie exclaimed indignantly. Methos grinned.

"Actually that last part sounded about right." He put in sweetly. Richie scowled.

"Keep quiet old man." He muttered.

"Look, you want me to teach you, this is how I'm going to do it to start off." Duncan exclaimed impatiently. "If it doesn't work out, we'll figure something else out, but for now, Richie is your partner. Don't go easy on him, but don't take his head either."

"Yea," Richie laughed nervously. "No decapitating."

"Well accidents do happen." Methos said smoothly.

"And no more comments from the peanut gallery." Duncan added sternly. Methos sat back and nodded, allowing the training to commence with his blessing and his silence. It was apparent to Duncan however, that pitting the slayer against the kid was indeed a foolish idea. With her strength and apparent skill with a sword (despite her disdain for the weapon), Richie was on his back within moments, the sword tip pressed dangerously close to his neck.

"How's that?" She asked casually. Methos felt a small smile creep over his features as he saw the flustered look on Duncan's face.

"A lucky shot," Richie growled as he stood up and brushed himself off. Buffy smiled apologetically.

"Sorry Richie, but it's just no contest. I've got slayer strength and training. And like I said before, a little experience with a blade."

"Slayers learn very quickly Mac," Methos put in for Duncan's benefit. "In their line of work, it's a necessity."

"Using your strength against Richie to defeat him won't help you." Duncan reminded her. "When you face Klossen, you won't be stronger than him. Strength will help even out the odds, but it won't put you over the top. Only skill with the blade will."

"So, who do I spar with then?" Buffy asked him. "You?"

Duncan shook his head.

"I don't think you're ready for that yet. You have to learn to fight without your strength first. I'm too skilled with the sword for you to spar with. You'd inevitably rely on your strength to fight me." He paused, considering the matter carefully.

"I'll spar with her." Methos offered quietly. He hadn't intended to train her, but he didn't have anything against sparring with her. Let Duncan handle matters of technique and Methos do the actual fighting. It was better this way, for he knew how she moved and how to both compliment, and challenge her.

"No good," Duncan was saying with a shake of his head. "I know you refuse to admit it Methos, but you are just as good as I am…better if you've been holding out on me like I think you have been. The same thing would occur."

"Plus I've already beaten him." Buffy said added, clearly trying to distance herself from the night they fought.

"No slayer," Methos said gently. "I let you win." He let the implications of that statement sink in before continuing. "Look Mac, I've lived a long time and it hasn't been through sheer luck. Yes, I am exceptionally skilled with a blade, but I am also good at hiding how good I am. Hiding has always been my best talent. And I know how fast slayers learn and how they fight. I can present a challenge to her without beating her too easily. I can be just difficult enough to make this worthwhile. Can you say the same?"

"You so didn't let me win," Buffy muttered to herself. Methos smiled, but didn't argue. Duncan thought for a moment.

"I guess I don't have any other choice." He finally said. "All right, Methos, you can spar."

"What about me?" Richie wondered, clearly disappointed that he was now odd man out.

"You can get us all cold drinks." Methos teased. "You'd make an excellent errand boy."


	21. More Honesty

Buffy closed the door to Methos' apartment with a definitive thud and threw herself onto his couch, eager for the softness the cushions had promised to provide. After she had started training with Methos as her sparring partner it had been infinitely clear to her that the party was over. Also made clear to her was the fact that Methos had indeed let her win the night they had fought each other.

She had forgotten how exhaustive training could be, not to mention painful. When she became the slayer, her first watcher Merrick had been a better fighter than she, despite her strength and had no qualms about physically defeating her to teach her a lesson. She remembered going home night after night with numerous bruises and sores, resolving herself to do better, to use her newfound strength to her advantage. Because that's what slayers did. It's why they were given their powers.

She had eventually grasped this concept and learned to harness her strength to the point where Merrick's training was no longer of the painful variety. It soon became largely theoretical, even though Giles attempted to re-introduce physical training. The problem was that her strength was no match for his and as physical as the matches may have been, they were never difficult, nor painful and she always had the upper hand.

This was not so with Methos. Despite the fact that she was far stronger, he was far older and far more disciplined. He knew methods of fighting, that she did not even think were physically possible and yet he continued to defeat her, despite her obvious physical advantage.

It didn't help that she still did not feel comfortable wielding the weapon that had destroyed Angel. She wanted to do what needed to be done, to stop this immortal/vampire hybrid from completing the final step, but her heart could still not fully commit herself and there were still so many unanswered questions in her mind.

Methos had told her that until she felt like the sword was a part of her body that it would never be something useful to her. He had said this time and again as he disarmed her and aimed the weapon at her neck. And even though she had committed herself to the training and fully intended to meet Klossen on the field of battle, part of her wondered if she was holding back and dooming herself to fight unprepared on purpose. Every time Methos' sword had touched her neck, ever so lightly, she felt a small stab of relief at the idea that maybe, just maybe this time he would finish the job Angelus and so many other creatures had started. Then, he could take whatever strength her quickening would pass on to him and finish the job himself.

But that would never happen and it saddened Buffy to know that. It wasn't the thought that she wouldn't die that upset her. To be truthful, her own suicidal feelings had begun to frighten her. No, it was the knowledge that she would never be able to escape this life, no matter how badly it beat her down. The only way out, was death and it looked more and more likely that that end could come at any moment. She didn't want to fight this guy and she couldn't seem to muster the killer instinct that the slayer needed. She knew that and Methos seemed to know that. She desperately wished he would just tell her not to bother, that he could kill Klossen himself, but he wasn't capable and even if he were, she knew he wouldn't do it. He wanted her to. He needed her to.

She couldn't condemn him for his lack of initiative. It wasn't his job to kill the vampires and demons. It was hers. He had his own problems as an immortal and no doubt more than one skeleton in his closet, apart from Celine. Buffy respected him and understood him.

The fight must be her doing. But could she fully commit herself to winning? That was the question that plagued her after the exhaustive training session.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" Methos was asking her as he sat down next to her on the couch. She grimaced and rubbed her right shoulder in pain.

"How 'bout a bed filled with soft marshmallow-y goodness. I ache all over buddy and it's all your fault!"

"I warned you I wouldn't be easy." Methos replied blandly. "How would me letting you win be of any help to you?"

"Well for starters I'd have full use of my right arm back," she muttered.

"You'll heal almost as quickly as an immortal would, so quit whining." Methos' tone was unconcerned.

"Yea, yea, slayer healing I know." She finally conceded with a sigh. "Still, some part of me thinks you enjoyed using me as a piñata today."

"Well I can't pretend it wasn't a little therapeutic." Methos admitted with a smile. "You caused me more than a little bit of distress ever since I met you, so I think I deserved a little revenge today."

"Made your hair go grey, did I?" She shot back seeing the humour in the situation and managing a small smile.

"My hair isn't grey!" He feigned shock, then looked towards the kitchen mirror as if to reaffirm his statement. "Why I don't look a day over…"

"Five thousand?" She put in. He shrugged.

"Give or take."

"Can I ask you something?" She said hesitantly.

"Let me guess, you want to know what it's like?" Methos supplied knowingly. "Or how it feels? Or what I've learned?"

"I'd never ask anything that cliché." She stated. Methos suppressed a grin as he remembered the first thing Mac had asked him. "Besides, if you had those answers you would have given them to me already. No, my question is…what was Duncan hinting at before when you made that crack about him being drawn to evil immortals? I mean, I know you've probably done some unsavory things in your past…"

"You know all the things Angelus did before he became Angel?" Methos said seriously, but with a gentleness for Buffy that had been thrown to the wayside when he had explained his past to Duncan. "All the atrocities he committed, all the horrors he visited?"

"Yes," her voice was slightly hoarse as she said it, no doubt remembering her own personal encounters with Angelus in vivid detail.

"Well the things I've done have been far worse and I committed those acts with my soul in full existence." Methos told her heavily. "I killed, tortured and maimed for the sheer pleasure of it. I can't tell you why I started, or why I stopped, I can tell you that I've changed….that people can change. Mac doesn't believe that even now I think, but he will someday. I wish I could have told you this in a better way. I understand if you no longer feel comfortable staying here."

"Why wouldn't I?" She asked him, quietly searching his eyes for something he wasn't sure even she could define.

"Because I just told you I'm a mass murderer, possibly worse than this Klossen fellow, the one you are planning to kill." He shrugged. "I figured that might change your opinion of me."

"I can't say that this isn't wiggy at all." She admitted. "Discovering that someone you trust has been a murderer in their past doesn't get easier, no matter how many times you hear it. And I don't know the man you were then. I do know the man you are now. And I like him. And I can't judge him. Because that would be the pot calling the kettle a murderer."

"You're not a murderer." Methos assured her gently, seeing the all too familiar ache in her eyes. "You did what had to be done."

"Same diff," she said lightly. "He was Angel when I killed him, not Angelus."

"Well I know this isn't much of a comfort, but Angelus is suffering eternal torment as well." Methos reminded her. "He's getting what he deserves, believe me." It suddenly occurred to her, that he sounded fairly familiar with the name Angelus. Staring at him in puzzlement, she asked what was on her mind.

"Did you two ever meet?"

"A few times." Methos said with a nod. "I sort of made it my mission to terrorize them. He was traveling with three other vampires, a bleached blonde named Spike, and two women…"

"Darla and Drusilla." Buffy finished for him.

"You encountered them then." It was not a question, but Buffy felt the need to answer anyway.

"Spike and Drusilla were no picnic in the park." She admitted. "But Darla wasn't too difficult. Angel actually killed her. I guess she was trying to convince him to renounce his soul and rejoin the Master, but of course he said no. I mean why she would even think that he…"

"The Master?" Methos echoed her words in a slightly dazed voice. "You know about the Master?"

"Really old vampire, trapped in an earthquake, really bad taste in leather jackets?" She questioned. "Yea, let's just say he made an impact on me. We killed each other."

"What do you mean?" Methos' voice was almost tentative now.

"He's the one that killed me." She finally said after a few minutes of thinking of an easier way to form the sentence. None came, so she went right for blunt. "He killed me, then Xander saved me, then I killed him. Then there was a dance. Why? Who was the Master to you?"

"To me?" Methos echoed once again. He blinked a few times before speaking. "He was the creature that paralyzed Celine."


	22. Mac's Hero Complex

"Mac?" Richie entered the living room area of Duncan's apartment and frowned in puzzlement. The Scot was nowhere to be seen, and he hadn't felt his presence at all on the way up. Shrugging, he went over to the fridge and helped himself to a beer, deciding to wait for Duncan to return from wherever it is he had gone to talk to him. There was a noticeable amount of beer missing from Duncan's fridge that Richie suspected had to do with Methos and Buffy's training session from the other day.

"Mooch." Richie muttered slightly. Then, looking down at the beer he held in his own hand, felt himself slightly chagrined.

Plopping himself down onto Duncan's couch, he noticed a notebook laying open on the table with some writing and crudely drawn diagrams. Curiously, he picked it up, realizing as soon as he glanced at it that it was a list of notes that Duncan had made on Buffy's skills and what needed to be worked on. Richie read through them, finding it interesting that Duncan had been able to decipher all of what he had simply from one training session.

The slayer had been amazing. Richie had been told she could fight, but he had honestly never expected her to be so amazing. He had always looked up to Duncan as being the best, but after seeing the girl in action, he knew that soon she would surpass Duncan, perhaps even the old man eventually.

When he had first met her, he had been attracted to her. What male his age wouldn't have been? However, after seeing this part of her, Richie knew that any attraction he may have had, could not ever be realized. She was above him in a way that he couldn't really explain. And the knowledge wasn't painful. Richie knew she was meant for something or someone far better than him. She just needed to realize this.

Methos on the other hand, was the wild card in the situation. Other than that waitress Joe had told him about, he had never thought of Methos as someone capable of caring about others, and yet there was clearly something between the slayer and the old man. He wasn't sure if it was just friendship, or something else occurring there, but if nothing else he found it interesting.

The intensity of the immortal buzz startled him from his thoughts and despite the fact that he knew it was likely MacLeod coming up the elevator, he found himself tensing out of sheer habit. That feeling would never be comfortable, and a good thing too.

"Richie!" Duncan sounded slightly surprised to see him. "What's up?" He headed over to the fridge, opened it, then looked back at the beer in Richie's hand and glared.

"Hey don't look at me man, I only had one." Richie said defensively. "Blame it on the old man."

"Mooch." Duncan muttered as he grabbed the last remaining bottle of beer in the fridge. As he made his way over to the couch, he noticed Richie holding his notebook.

"Catching up on some reading?"

"I found it interesting." Richie replied with an apologetic shrug. He set it back down on the table. "I didn't realize that you put that much preparation into training someone."

"Normally I don't." Duncan admitted. "But she's different. I've never trained someone so strong physically, so I was finding it hard at first to work around that and teach her to rely on technique. It won't be easy, especially since she's still reluctant with the weapon."

"What do you mean reluctant?" Richie wondered. "She's using it isn't she?"

Duncan shook his head, wondering if it were possible to be as naïve as Richie and survive as an immortal. Sometimes he forgot that centuries of life had taught him better how to read people, especially when they fought.

"She's not trusting it Richie." Duncan explained. "She still fears it. I wish I knew what it was that she's so afraid of. I could help her better if I knew."

"I guess it's too personal for her to tell you." Richie said with a shrug.

"She doesn't trust me," Duncan continued frustration evident as if Richie hadn't spoken.

"Is it necessary that she confide all her problems to you in order to train her?" Richie asked, wondering how much this had to do with his ability to train her to fight. "Or is the green eyed monster rearing its head here?"

"Huh?" Duncan looked at his friend, clearly confused as to what he was referring to. Richie wondered for a moment if he were wrong in his assumption, but decided to press on with it nonetheless.

"I just mean that it's obvious she told Methos what she's been through. The two of them are close, you know? And I was wondering if maybe that's the part that's bugging you. You feel you can't help her because someone else understands her better." Richie shrugged. "Maybe you're a bit jealous."

"I'm not interested in her Richie." Duncan stated flatly. "She's only a child."

"She's more than that and we both know it." Richie argued. "And so does Methos. Not only does he know that, he understands that. I wasn't saying you were interested in her Mac, only that you resented her ability to tell him her problems and not you. You can't fix everyone. Sometimes a person needs to be saved by someone other than you."

"I'm not trying to save, or fix her." Duncan said stubbornly. Even as he spoke however, he could feel the truth of Richie's words and he didn't like them one little bit. Part of him did resent the idea that she could tell Methos what she had been through but not him. He wondered what it was about him t hat put her off, since not only was she incredibly close to the old man, but she also felt a certain reassurance in Richie and Joe's presence that she lacked in his. What was it about him that put her off? He had gotten so used to being the guy that people talked to or came to for help that it was difficult to reconcile the idea that he might not be capable of it.

"Yea, right Mac." Richie was scoffing. "Face it, you've got a hero complex and Methos is about the least hero-like that you can get. You're afraid he's not the right guy to help her."

"He's not exactly the picture of nobility Richie," Duncan pointed out, still refusing to admit outright the truth of the kid's words.

"Maybe that's the point." Richie suggested. "Maybe she isn't either. You don't know and it's likely you never will. So you have to work with what you've got and somehow you have to get her to be able to beat this Klossen dude."

"I can only do so much Richie," Duncan warned his friend. He hated to think that the kid might be disappointed in him if he failed to properly prepare the slayer. "If she can't fully commit herself to the blade, then I can only do so much. If Methos is the one she confides in, maybe he can help."

"I always knew the old man would prove useful someday." Richie joked. "Cause he's not helping your beer stash any."

"At least I got some this time." Duncan said with a sigh. "Better restock before our next training session. If Methos ever takes my head over anything it will be because I ran out of beer."

"Speaking of taking heads, what will happen if she wins?" Richie wondered. He remembered Joe mentioning something about an overload of power, and wondered if that also extended to the slayer if she were to take a quickening. Had the others even thought of this? From the look on Duncan's face, Richie guessed that he at least had, but didn't like to do so.

"I'm honestly not sure Rich," Duncan admitted. "I planned to mention that to Methos or Joe the next time I saw them, but I don't want to alarm her unless I have to."

"You don't want to tell her." Richie supplied, filling in the blanks.

"It's not that," Duncan protested, though they both knew that it was pretty much that. "I just don't want to scare her off her commitment to fight him if I don't have to. Until we know what will happen there's no sense in alarming her."

"What if she decides to fight this guy before you do?" Richie asked. "She deserves to know there's a risk Mac."

"And she will. But until I know more, I'm not willing to scare her away."

"Whatever you say Mac," Richie said, doubt etched in his voice. "I just hope you know what you're doing."


	23. Coincidences and Leprechauns

The following day was one of rest for Buffy and Methos. Duncan had decided after the first training session that they needed some time for what he had taught her to sink in and he needed to develop a better training strategy. Buffy didn't argue as it meant time away from holding that awful weapon. She had hoped for a dreamless sleep, allowing her to forget the entire situation, but after finding out that the Master had been the vampire that paralyzed Methos' slayer, her dreams had become nightmares consisting of the night the Master had killed her, mixed with the night she killed Angel.

She lay awake most of the night, afraid the dreams would turn to those of Angel. Her own death she could handle, but dreaming about Angel was just too painful. After finding out she had killed the Master, Methos had grown oddly quiet and had bid her goodnight without explanation. Buffy didn't question it, for she knew that look in his eyes meant he wished to be alone to absorb the information privately before he was willing to show any emotional response. It was odd, how well she seemed to know him after only about a month or so. And yet, as much as she did know him well, she knew she would never know him completely. There was too much in his past, too many different men. She might know the man he currently was, but she'd never fully understand all the men he had been. It was an intriguing concept, for an intriguing person.

Angel had intrigued her when she had first met him as well. She shook her head, not wanting to go down that road. She had known Angel. She had known him inside and out. Except for Angelus. And eventually, she had known him too. It only hurt more, having understood someone to completely to destroy them the way she had. She knew that to be true for him as well and wondered just how deeply he hated her right at this very moment.

It was a torturous thought, and one she didn't dwell on. The smell of food caught her nose, causing her to force her attention to the fact that she was hungry. She threw a light sweater over the tank top she had slept in and entered the kitchen where Methos was, making what looked to be an incredibly delicious sausage and French toast breakfast.

"I didn't know you could cook."

"I have many talents." Methos replied with a smile. Buffy wondered if there was a hidden meaning to what he had just said, but decided to shrug it off. Sitting down, she waited in anticipation as Methos handed her a plate.

"So what's with the feeding me?" She wondered, thinking the situation was just a little too domestic for Methos. She had been staying there for some time now, and not once had he gone to any trouble above the occasional fixing a cup of coffee for her in the morning, or making her some toast. This was new…and a little odd.

"What do you mean?" Methos attempted to play up the innocent angle, which only made her nervous.

"I mean, when did you become Martha Stewart's twin brother?" She paused as she took a bite of sausage. "She's not an immortal is she? Did you take her quickening and suddenly have the urge to cook?"

"At least I know that you understand the process of the quickening," Methos murmured to himself. Then in response to her question said, "no, I didn't kill her. As for the immortal question, I'm honestly not sure. I've never met the woman."

"Now you're getting all avoid-y." She said, pointing the fork his way in accusation. "What's with breakfast?"

"I can't just do something nice?" Methos asked. Upon seeing the sceptical look she shot his way, he felt himself sigh. "OK, I wanted to do something nice for you to thank you."

"Thank me?" She echoed, feeling confused and a little nervous. "For what?"

"For killing the Master." He replied. "I know you didn't do it for me…obviously, you didn't even know me. But until I heard that he was dead, I didn't realize how…unfinished the whole thing with Celine seemed. Last night when you told me it was you who had killed him, I….I felt at peace with her death. Finally. I think it's because I know that wherever she is, her job is finished. I don't know if that makes any sense, given how long she's been gone, but…there it is."

"I didn't face him to be noble," Buffy told him bitterly. "When Giles first told me that facing the Master would mean my death I tried to quit then as well. If you had seen what I said to Giles and Angel…it was cowardly. And I'm still a coward. Only this time it's living that frightens me, not dying."

"Someday you will realize just how strong you really are." Methos murmured softly, staring at her with an intensity that unnerved her slightly. "Don't you get it? You faced him, even though you knew you would die. That takes strength, not cowardice. And you're facing this too, weather you like it or not. You're doing it because you know it's right. Sometimes that's the hardest thing to do. I know that's no comfort to you now, but one day it will be. One day Buffy I think you'll be free."

"So now you're a prophet as well as an immortal?" She smirked, trying to hide the lump in her throat. What was it about his quiet assuredness that made her want to break down in his arms?

"I think we were meant to meet Buffy." Methos told her seriously. "I don't think this was by chance. You've managed to absolved me of something I've carried with me for years. The fact that it was you who killed the Master means something. I think you were sent to me for a reason."

"Now you're starting to sound like Giles." Buffy said with a frown. She didn't like the idea of anything in her life being pre-destined. Too much of the pain in her life had been caused by destiny. Just once she wanted something left entirely to chance. "You really think this isn't just a coincidence?"

Methos was silent for a moment, as if giving the matter his full attention.

"You want some advice from the world's oldest man slayer?" He asked her. "Here it is. There are two things in this world that I am absolutely certain do not exist….leprechauns and coincidences."

"I guess I can't really argue with that logic." She replied after a moment's pause. Inwardly though, she instructed herself to question Giles about the leprechauns if she ever saw him again…just to be sure.

"No you can't," Methos said with a smile as he opened the fridge door and pulled out a beer. Buffy frowned as he opened it and took a large gulp.

"Bit early in the day isn't it?" She questioned, then thinking a moment. "Where'd you get it anyway? Yesterday you didn't have any beer in there."

"Yesterday we went to MacLeod's place." Methos said simply, but with a mischievous twinkle in his usually secretive eyes.

"Mooch." She teased. He bowed slightly in response to which she found herself giggling.

"At your service," he said charmingly. "Now, what shall we do today with our day off?"


	24. Klossen's Watcher

Methos entered Joe's bar two weeks later with a scowl on his face reserved for the elderly man. He was supposed to be sparring with Buffy at Mac's dojo. Instead, the watcher had called him and told him it was urgent that he stop by. Leaving the slayer MacLeod's hands without his supervision was against his better judgment to begin with. Nevertheless, Joe had been adamant that he come.

"Joe?" He flipped on a nearby light switch, and side stepped some chairs that had gotten in his way somehow. "Joe are you here?"

The lack of answer caused a tiny niggle of worry within as he went behind the bar, looking for signs that the watcher was there.

"This better be good Dawson," he found himself muttering as he opened the door to the back room.

"I'm afraid it's very bad," Joe said quietly. Methos looked in the direction of the voice and spotted Joe's outline in the darkness.

"What's bad?" Methos wondered as he searched the wall for another light to turn on. "Joe what on earth are you doing here in the dark?"

"The dark?" Joe said absently, then as if realizing what Methos meant said, "oh yea…right."

He heard him shuffle around and finally the click of the light switch caused the room to become illuminated. When Methos' eyes finally adjusted to the light, he noticed what it was that had the watcher so flustered. A body lay on the floor of Joe Dawson's store room. A dead body.

"Who is he Joe?" Methos asked quietly. He looked to the man's face and noticed the tired look in his eyes, seemingly aging him at least ten years. It was a slap in the face to Methos as he witnessed Joe Dawson's mortality become so pronounced right in front of him. He took Joe for granted. He took them all for granted, and they wouldn't be around forever. Immortal, or mortal, somehow Methos knew these people would leave him eventually. The thought hurt immensely, but he pushed it aside in favour of the here and now.

"Craig Miller." Joe replied with a sigh. "He was a watcher. And a friend."

"Let me guess…he was Klossen's watcher?" Methos didn't really need to say it out loud. It was only too obvious and the look of pain that flitted across Joe's face merely confirmed it.

"I never should have contacted him about this." Joe said, anger simmering in his eyes. "It's my fault. Watch, don't interfere. Damn it, I did this!"

"Klossen did this." Methos corrected quietly. "And you don't know that it was you're attempts to get a hold of him that got him killed. There's every chance that Klossen knew about us, that he would have gone after him anyway."

"Don't patronize me man," Joe said with a weary sigh. "We tipped him off and you know it. He left a note attached to the body."

"What does it say?"

"It says 'a valiant effort, but a fruitless one. All you've accomplished is this man's death. I warned you there would be others. Next time it will be someone closer to you. Give me the slayer and no more will be hurt.'"

"He really is a few fruit loops short of a bowl isn't he?" Methos murmured in amazement.

"Crazy or not, I don't think we should doubt his sincerity." Joe said grimly. "How about Buffy? How is her training coming?"

"She's nowhere near ready to fight if that's what you are asking." Methos said firmly. "She's still too reluctant with the sword. I don't know how to get through to her."

"Maybe you can't." Joe offered weakly. "She might have to come to that on her own."

"Not to appear callous Joe, but your friend here proves that time is running out." Methos sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what to do. I mean, even if she were ready to fight, we still don't know what would happen to her if she won. Would the she take it? Or would it overload her? Would she become as powerful as this Klossen guy?"

"What if she couldn't handle it?" Joe wondered softly. His eyes met that of the immortal's as if questioning him in a way that defied verbal response. "What if the quickening would kill her? Would you still ask her to fight?"

"I'm not her watcher," Methos said stubbornly. "It's not up to me if she fights or not."

"Not officially," Joe acknowledged, "but she looks up to you. She listens to you. She's doing this for you. You know that as well as I do. I'm not blind man, I see what's going on."

"You think I'm too close." It wasn't a question. Methos looked away, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't prove Joe right. He quickly realized he had no such response. The plain truth of it was that he was too close. Everybody could see it. He wanted to say it didn't matter, that the quickening would not be an issue, but nobody could be sure. And there was no guarantee they would know the answers by the time she fought him. They were stuck and he knew it. He nodded towards Joe and threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You're right, I'm too close. I don't know what's going to happen Joe."

"That's not good enough." Joe said quietly, but with an anger to it that simmered under the surface. "Craig is dead. He was a friend, a colleague and a damn good watcher. I need to know that this son of a bitch is going to pay."

"An eye for an eye then Joe?" Methos countered angrily. "Is that how it works now? You'd send that girl to her death for your revenge? I can see I was wrong to tell her that you were different from the other watchers. What is it, ingrained in you people to think of the slayer as nothing but a tool? She's a human being damn you!"

"And we all know you are the champion of the common good," Joe said sarcastically.

"This isn't about me." Methos shot back. "It's about her. And it's about you asking her to take a huge risk. A risk she doesn't even know about. You don't seem to think there's anything wrong with that, but I do. You watchers think that slayers are disposable. You make me sick."

Disgusted, Methos turned, and headed for the door, wanting nothing more to do with Joe, or the watcher's council. The hypocrisy and cruelty had gotten too pronounced to be ignored any longer. Even Dawson was not immune.

"Methos wait!" Joe called after him. Methos paused in mid-stride and turned, his patience running very thin. "I'm sorry man, I don't know what I was…I'm sorry. It's just that when I came here and saw Craig I…I over reacted."

"Yea, you did." Methos nodded, though his expression softened considerably. "I think we should tell her what could happen Joe. She deserves to know it's riskier than we thought."

"I agree, but we don't know for sure what could happen yet." Joe nodded. "But Craig might have been onto something before he died. I found an ancient text in his coat that Klossen must have missed. I don't know for sure what it says, but if I can translate it, it might have the answers we're looking for. Give me a few days to try OK? I don't want to get her worried over nothing."

"A few days." Methos agreed. "No more. You want help moving him?" He gestured to the watcher's body.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather handle this myself." Joe replied sadly. "But thanks."

Methos nodded, not knowing how else to respond and left.


	25. Slayer's Music

"Why are we here again?" Buffy looked around Joe's bar, finding it odd to see it so full of people. She was used to being in there when the bar was closed, either officially or on purpose so that it afforded some privacy. It had started to seem like the Sunnydale library to Buffy in terms of the feel of the place. She had never gotten used to seeing an occasional student wander into the library either. It always felt like they were invading her personal space.

But it wasn't her space any more. It had been a good long while since she had set foot in the Sunnydale High library and her past memories of it weren't exactly pleasant ones. Finding the dead body of a friend, not to mention the rest of your friends severely injured didn't spell sunshine and roses. It hurt to think those memories would never be pleasant for her again. The library was no longer a sanctuary, but a house of death. It seemed, that Joe's bar, Methos' apartment and Duncan's dojo had taken its place.

Except tonight, there were people in the bar. Tonight, the bar was open and thriving and public. Tonight, Buffy felt distinctly uncomfortable.

Methos, Duncan and Richie seemed completely oblivious to that feeling. They were busy greeting various people that obviously frequented the place and genuinely looking forward to a good time. Buffy found that to be a difficult concept given what had recently happened to Joe's friend, Klossen's watcher.

"Joe's performing tonight," Methos told her. "We're here for moral support."

"Yea, and I'm Santa Claus," Buffy said sarcastically. "Methos you're a lot of things, but moral support guy isn't one of them."

"She's got you there," Duncan said mildly. Methos looked slightly offended.

"I will have you know that I can be a very sensitive person. For instance I saw a movie last night and cried."

"A movie made you cry?" Richie scoffed. "Why, did a brewery get blown up?"

"That's not the point," Methos replied airily. "The point is, we're here for a night out because all we've been doing lately is train."

"All I've been doing lately is train," Buffy corrected him stiffly. "And I've been doing it because people are dying remember? Taking a night off could literally kill somebody."

"Do you not have a happy medium at all slayer?" Methos asked her, shaking his head ruefully. "You either don't want anything to do with slaying, or you're gung ho and unable to stop! I'm not suggesting we abandon the training in any way, but you need to take a break. You're not ready to face him yet. Anything that happens tonight, or any night until then is not your fault."

"I'm not sure Joe sees it that way," she murmured, remembering the look she had seen on the Watcher's face when she had come into contact with him the day after Methos had gone to meet him. He had glared, almost right though her when she offered her condolences. She could see it in his eyes. He blamed her. And he should. If she had been half the slayer she should be, she would have been ready to face this guy already and this never would have happened. Now there were too people dead, plus Angel because of her. She wasn't sure how much more of the guilt she could take.

"Joe was just upset." Duncan said gently, obviously sensing her distress. "He doesn't blame you. It's not your fault."

"Seriously it's just one night." Richie added.

"All right, I give up!" She said, throwing her hands up in surrender. "It's just….fun is something a little foreign to me. I'm gonna need someone to teach me how it works."

"Happy to oblige slayer," Methos said with a warm smile. "You two losers want anything to drink? I'm buying."

"You mean you're mooching and Joe's letting you." Duncan clarified with a sigh. "Get me a beer."

"Same." Richie echoed.

Methos left them and approached the bar where Joe acknowledged him with a slight nod. The look on his face made Methos slightly nervous. When he noticed Buffy's presence, Joe's look became quizzical. Methos knew that he was wondering why he had brought her, rather than let her stay at home so that she could get in an early day of training in the morning. Duncan had said as much when he had called him to suggest they all go out to Joe's. Methos knew that Joe wanted to speak to them about the information Craig Miller had had on him. There was a chance they would get their answers tonight, and Methos had felt it only fair that the slayer be there to hear them. It wasn't what he told Duncan though, for he knew the Scot would not agree with him. The idea that her fate become known to her seemed one that neither Duncan or Joe seemed comfortable with, so Methos lied to him. Methos had told him that the slayer needed a night out, and although he suspected that Duncan was suspicious of his motives, he relented and said that Buffy could come in late the following day.

Lately, Methos had been backing off when it came to the training, showing up late, or not trying as hard when they were sparring. Both Buffy and Duncan sensed it, he knew that much. Still, he couldn't help himself. Methos wasn't even sure why he wanted to sabotage her training that way. He of all people knew how dangerous Klossen was, what he was capable of. He knew the last thing Buffy should be doing was losing any time in training for this fight and yet, he hesitated. They still weren't sure what the quickening would do to her, and until they were, Methos was loathe to push her into battle.

His feelings for her were becoming more confusing by the day. He felt a fierce need to protect her from everything and at the same time there was an intense pride, as he knew she didn't need his protection. Her independence had been what drew him to her, and frustrated him at the same time. He liked to flatter himself into believing that it had been his influence that had finally gotten through to her and convinced her to stop running from her responsibility, but he knew the truth of it. His part in her coming around had been small. From what he had seen of her, he knew that pain and loss would only keep her from her calling for a short while. Eventually her own guilt and personal conscience would command her to fight again. And once committed, she could scarce be swayed. He was learning this for certain now.

She was like no other slayer he'd ever known. Not even Celine had shown this sort of promise, this kind of fire. It intrigued him, and it frightened him. In all his years he had learned one, irrefutable truth when it came to those who burned brighter than all others around them, especially mortals. If your gift was stronger than all others, you were more likely to die young. It was the price one paid for brilliance. And it was Methos' curse, for he had no use for the ordinary.

From what she had told him of Angel, neither did she. And it was here Methos knew he must tread lightly, for however his feelings for the young slayer might be morphing, hers would never waver. Not now anyway and not anytime in the near future. She had loved the vampire deeply, and her loyalty to him remained stronger than ever after his death. He marvelled at her ability to do her duty, even when it meant killing the man she loved. It was hard for him to kill Celine and he wasn't exactly young when he'd known her. She possessed strength she didn't even know existed…strength he desperately wanted to show her. But now was not the time. A good friend, and a guide…that was what she needed. Methos could be that for her.

"Didn't think I'd see you here this early" Joe was speaking to him, but the innuendo was clear. He was asking why the older immortal had come so early and brought the slayer with him. Methos' plastered a neutral expression on his face and shrugged.

"You know me Joe, I'm addicted to beer and the blues."

"Well I believe half of that anyway." Joe grumbled. "I didn't mean just you. I thought Duncan was training her fairly early every day."

"We needed a night out." Methos told him firmly. "She was pretty shaken by what happened to that watcher."

"Yea?" Joe looked over at Buffy and his expression softened slightly.

"She thinks you blame her." Methos continued.

"Oh hell, I don't blame her," the old watcher said gruffly. "When I saw her before I was…upset."

"You might want to tell her that." Methos suggested. "This fight has to be hers, not yours or anybody else's. If she goes in there with your vendettas fuelling her, she will lose Joe. She needs to know we back her."

"Don't worry old man, I'll tell her." Joe promised. He looked past Methos to see the others were waiting, somewhat impatiently. "You supposed to be getting something here?"

"Beer for Richie and Mac," Methos answered. "And of course myself. Put it on Mac's tab. He said he's buying."

"I highly doubt that," Joe said, but did it nonetheless.

Methos made his way back to the others, just as the band began to set up for Joe's performance. Duncan, Richie and Buffy had selected a table near to the stage and were laughing and teasing Richie about something. Methos felt himself smile slightly as he sat down, marvelling at how seamlessly she seemed to fit with their tightly knit little group.

"What's with the grin?" Buffy asked him as she accepted the soft drink he handed her. He shrugged, not knowing how to voice it.

"I like the blues," was all he said.

Buffy gave him a weird look and sipped her sprite in response. Methos had been acting rather oddly ever since Joe's friend had been killed. She could sense there was something that none of them were telling her, but feared to voice it, lest the answer be something she couldn't handle. It was easier to put all her concentration into training, and not worry about what might come after she faced Klossen. It was like life was on pause until that happened and she worried about what would become of her after it was over.

The whine of the microphone snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see Joe taking a seat at the front of the stage, guitar in hand. She had never seen him perform, but from what Richie and MacLeod had told her she was looking forward to it.

"I'd like to dedicate this first number, to a friend of mine who recently died." Joe was saying to the audience. He looked directly at her and smiled, which made Buffy feel slightly better. Maybe he didn't blame her after all.

The moment his fingers touched the guitar, Buffy found herself in awe. She had never really been a blues fan, and the only music she'd been exposed to in a club setting had been at the bronze, and it tended to be of the loud and obnoxious, or dark and angsty variety, but this was something completely different. This was something from the soul and Joe was just the man to play it. She felt it profoundly, and from the look one everyone else's face, they did too.

"He's amazing." She said to Methos who nodded his head in time to the music. He gave her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was feeling and smiled.

"I've seen a lot of musicians in my time." He told her simply. "And the best ones can usually be found where the rest of the world wouldn't think to look. Slayers function the same way. You do something the rest of the world doesn't acknowledge. You make your own music."

Buffy didn't know what to say to that, so instead she turned her attention back to the song, which held both Richie and Duncan in rapt attention. It suddenly occurred to her that as she listened to Joe's music, and sat next to Methos, across from Duncan and Richie, she was happy. It was a fleeting thing, for as soon as she realized it the old guilt and sadness returned, but it had been welcome if not brief. It gave her hope, for she knew that one day it would come again unaccompanied by anything to hinder it.


	26. Unwelcome Deja Vu

Methos watched as the last waitress left the bar before turning on his stool to face Joe who sat behind the bar, tired but obviously rejuvenated by his performance. Buffy and Richie sat at a far table in the corner playing cards and Duncan headed over towards them, clearly sensing that something was up with Joe and Methos.

"Now's as good a time as any Joe," Methos said to him with a sigh as he reached for another beer. "What do you know?"

"This is about the quickening then?" Duncan echoed. "You've found something out?"

"It took me a bit to translate the text book Craig had on him." Joe told them in a resigned tone of voice. "But it seems we know more than we did anyways."

"What do you mean?" Methos wondered. He had abandoned his watch on Buffy and Richie, choosing instead to meet the watcher's eyes and attempt to search out the truth within them. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Methos felt a small shiver run up his back at the thought of what it might be. Duncan looked uneasy, but didn't seem to feel the same dread. Of course, Methos thought, he doesn't feel…

"Well, according to the book, there are three things that could definitely happen to the slayer if she wins the fight. The book doesn't know for sure which one it will be, but it will be one."

"Doesn't know for sure?" Methos echoed, feeling a sudden anger strike him. "I don't need maybe's Joe, I need answers. This is too important for…"

"There are no certainties Methos." Joe told him firmly. "This has never happened before, and most likely never will again. All of it has been speculation man, all of it. All we know for sure is that one of these three things will happen. That's all I can do."

"You looked in one book," Methos argued quietly. "How can you be so certain that…"

"What are they Joe?" Duncan interrupted gently, shooting a look in Methos' direction that told him to wait until after Joe had given them the information.

Joe drew a deep breath and bent down to look at the piece of paper he held in his hands. He seemed to read it carefully before looking back up at them.

"If she manages to take Klossen's head, there could be three outcomes. The first one is actually the best we can hope for. She'd take the quickening, as we would. That would mean taking all of Klossen's power into her at once, but there is a possibility it wouldn't destroy her, that she could somehow suppress it and turn it inwards."

"What do you mean suppress it?" Duncan questioned.

"The thing is, she's still mortal." Joe told them, "whatever else she may be, whatever other powers she may have, she's not an immortal and she's not supposed to take immortal quickenings."

"But Klossen isn't like other immortals," Methos pointed out. Joe nodded.

"That's actually what might make the first possibility possible." Joe said with a ghost of a smile. "Ironically, if she were to take your head Methos, or Duncan's or Richie's, the quickening would likely destroy her. She couldn't handle it because you possess only the one essence…the essence of the immortal. But Klossen, he has both vampire and immortal within him. And Buffy has been through death, so she…"

"We know this already Joe. She possesses the essence of immortals because she's been through death." Methos said impatiently. He was getting tired of Joe's beating around the bush.

"Right," Joe continued, ignoring Methos' outburst. "Which means that if she did survive a quickening it would only be from an immortal who possessed the essence of a vampire. She's meant to fight them you see. It's her calling. And it could be her salvation. Her nature as the slayer could be the part of her that reacts to the quickening and if that happens…if it's strong enough, she could suppress the power…hide it within herself so that it doesn't destroy her."

"What else could happen?" Methos asked, ignoring the hope the was suddenly kindled within him. His belief in the slayer's power could not be allowed to blind him to the possibility that she might not be able to defeat him. He had to know all the options.

"Well, she could die." Joe said bluntly. "There's a very real possibility, that Buffy will not be able to handle the quickening, slayer or no. The book acknowledged that it could have been completely wrong about the essences having a say in the end result. It could simply kill her."

"And the third option?" Duncan wondered, before Methos could argue as it looked like he were about to do.

"The third option is the most troubling." Joe admitted. "And this ties into the first option. If the essence does affect her, but she's not powerful enough to control it, it could take over completely. Just as the slayer's quickening would grant immense power to Klossen, so to could his quickening to the slayer, only it could corrupt not only her body, but her heart as well. She wouldn't die, but she would lose her soul like a vampire would after the change…and if that happened, she'd be nearly unstoppable, and there would be no other slayer to take her place."

"It's the first or the second option then." Methos decided firmly, but with a look that challenged the others to argue with him. "If there is any way of her taking this quickening into her, she'll do it. She's strong enough."

"What if that doesn't matter?" Duncan asked gently, not wanting to upset Methos, but needing to consider all the facts. "Third option aside, it could still kill her. Are we really going to ask her to take that risk?"

"She's a slayer." Joe reminded them firmly, but with a hint of regret in his voice. "She takes that risk every night."

"She does," Methos agreed, "but she knows what it is she's up against. This isn't enough Joe. I want more. I want guarantees."

"I can't give you that old man." Joe said wearily. "Nobody can. When she faces this guy she will either take the quickening, die trying…or become the worst enemy we've ever faced. That's all we can know."

"We have to tell her." Duncan decided firmly. Methos was about to argue, but he was cut off before he could do so.

"Don't worry," a cool voice said from behind. Methos hadn't even seen her leave the table she'd been at with Richie, but she clearly had and not only that had heard everything they had said. "She already knows."

"We were going to tell you," Duncan told her in what he hoped sounded like a sincere tone of voice. "We just wanted to be sure."

"And are you?" She asked, her voice steady and calm. It was a deception however, for Methos could see the glint of terror that hid behind her light green eyes. He longed to erase it, but was aware that his words were useless. "Cause it sounds to me like you know what could happen to me, but don't want to tell me. Sounds pretty sure to me."

"Buffy…" He started to speak, but was stopped in mid sentence as the slayer rounded on him, eyes glittering with tears and anger.

"Did you know about this too Methos? Did you know what could happen?"

"I didn't know what exactly," he admitted. "We wanted to know before you went up against him. I wanted to tell you, but I needed to be sure…"

"You're just like him you know that?" She had grown quiet now, her entire form seemed to shrink from that of a confrontational slayer to a frightened little girl in mere seconds. "This happened before. Giles…he knew I was going to die and he didn't tell me. He waited. I overheard he and Angel…it was like they were discussing the morning paper, what was in the news, last night's episode of NYPD Blue, anything but the fact that I was going to die!"

"Buffy…" It was Joe this time that tried to interject, but she would have none of it.

"What is it with you watchers? Do they just remove your soul as part of the deal?" Methos moved towards her, trying to take her hand, to offer her some comfort, but she recoiled as if it would burn her to touch him. "Don't. You stay away from me. I trusted you. I thought you would…I thought you were different, that you wanted me to….you just wanted me to fight. Just like the others. You were just doing your duty, weren't you?"

"None of this was duty to me slayer." Methos told her, pleading with his eyes for her to understand. "That you can believe, if nothing else."

"How?" She demanded. "Even now you call me slayer instead of my name. It's like I'm not even human to you!"

"Buffy…" Richie had approached upon hearing her raised voice, worry clear in his voice. "You OK?"

"Do you trust the watchers Richie?" She asked him, throwing him completely off guard. He blinked a moment or so before answering.

"I trust Joe." He finally said. Then smirked as he looked at Methos. "And I trust the old man's reluctance not to do too much that requires effort. I don't trust the council itself."

"I have to get away from here." She finally said, shaking her head gently. "Richie, will you let me stay at your place for the night?"

"Yea, I guess," Richie cast an uncertain look in Methos' direction as if asking permission. Methos nodded slightly, realizing that forcing her to come back to his place would not help to repair the damage that had now been done. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he watched as Buffy and Ritchie left the bar.


	27. Her Worst Fear

Methos waited until he was out of range of the buzz before he left to follow Buffy and Richie back to his place. He didn't know what he would do if Klossen were to attack, but things were too unknown at the moment for Buffy to fight him. If what Joe had told them was true, than fighting this guy might have been the worst idea Methos had ever had. He believed in the slayer more than he ever thought possible, but it didn't change the fact that if that belief was misplaced or blinded by emotion, they could potentially create something much worse than what they were currently facing…and Methos couldn't beat Klossen.

It was the immortal in him that told him it was foolish to allow this fight to go forward. The realist in him that told him it was too dangerous to allow the possibility of the slayer becoming their enemy and losing her soul. It was the man in him that desperately did not want to see any harm come to the girl, and yet the watcher in him told him it was her choice. He did not know who to listen to.

One thing was certain, if she did decide to go through with the fight, precautions of some kind had to be taken to ensure that even if the quickening did corrupt her, she couldn't have the chance to hurt anybody. He didn't know how he would do that exactly, but somehow he would have to incapacitate her just enough to be able to take her head if that were possible. And it would be he that did it, for he would not leave such a task to anyone else.

She wouldn't want him to. She would know that it had to be him. Just like Celine, only if it came to it, this time he wouldn't hesitate. He wasn't sure if that was now a strength or a weakness within him, but it couldn't be altered.

He needed to talk to her, but he worried that she would only drift further from him if he went to her immediately. He waited for a few days giving her time to calm down and consider what they had learned, but he couldn't stay away forever. He knew she would need to talk to him, however angry she was. And he knew that once this was over, if she survived something had to change. She could not continue to hide in Seacouver, hanging out at Joe's bar with the guys. There was too much she had left to do, too much she had left unfinished.

He had a feeling their meeting wasn't coincidental, but he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to help her until now. She had managed to free him from a burden that had been weighing on his shoulders for so long. And he knew that despite her affection for him and the others, she desperately missed her home. She was needed there, and she was a slayer. Somehow, he had to get her to see that. After this thing with Klossen was finished, he had to convince her to go home. It was his turn to absolve her and he wouldn't settle for anything less.

Buffy knew that Methos wouldn't stay away for too long. She was angry at him, but she still knew him well enough to know that he was probably worried for her safety at Richie's place and would want to try to convince her to return to his apartment as soon as possible. She wasn't sure how ready she was to speak with him as the sharp pang of betrayal still burned hot underneath the surface.

Richie didn't know the full extent of what had happened in Joe's bar, but to his credit he hadn't pressed for details from her either. He seemed to understand her need to distance herself from not only the older immortal, but from her rigorous training schedule as well. She couldn't stay away forever, she knew that much, but for now facing Duncan and Methos after knowing that both of them had kept such information from her was too much.

Richie had been the perfect picture of understanding. He had allowed her to sleep in his room, as unlike Methos he did not have a two bedroom apartment and had done his best not to pry, but to maintain a comfortable level of conversation about anything and everything that did not relate to immortals or to Klossen. It was almost like sanctuary for the slayer, a world away from responsibility and guilt, but it was also completely unrealistic. The fourth afternoon she stayed there, the uneasiness had almost become too much. Richie started to sense it too, but was unsure of what to do about it.

She was in the middle of fixing herself a sandwich for lunch when the phone rang. She watched suspiciously as Richie answered it, glanced over at her, and then said something in another language to whoever it was on the other end. She had a feeling though and glared at him as he stepped tentatively toward her.

"He's coming over here, isn't he?"

"He doesn't have much choice." Richie replied apologetically. "He said that Mac told him that if he doesn't come talk to you, he will. I figured the old man was the better option since you guys get along better."

"We did get along better." She corrected. "I made the mistake of thinking I could trust him."

"Aww, he's not so bad." Richie told her with a shrug. "He may be five thousand, but he's still a man. We're idiots and we do stupid things."

She wasn't sure how to respond to a statement like that, so she didn't, preferring instead to watch as Richie headed towards the door and put on a jacket and his shoes. She had a sinking feeling she knew what he was doing.

"You're giving us time alone aren't you?"

"Yea, well, I figured it might be a good idea." Richie's explanation sounded lame, even to himself.

"He threatened you didn't he?"

"Said he'd take my head," Richie confirmed wryly. "I don't really think he will, but there are other things the old man can do to me. Sometimes it's better to just back off."

She wanted to argue with Richie, to ask him to stay so that she wouldn't have to deal with Methos on a deeper level than the simple 'nice seeing you, now get out' response, but she knew that wasn't going to happen.

She briefly considered just locking the door after Richie left, but when she voiced that idea, Richie informed her that Methos had a key to both his and Mac's apartments.

"Do all you immortals have keys to each other's places?" She exclaimed to Richie as he opened the door to leave. Richie shrugged and blushed slightly.

"We live dangerous lives. Sometimes being able to get into each other's places means life and death." With that, he left, leaving the door open. She grudgingly accepted that as she waited and was soon alerted of the old man's presence via the immortal buzz Within seconds of the feeling, she could hear Methos' footsteps in the hallway, as well as the soft clearing of his throat as he entered the apartment.

. She braced herself, trying to restrain the emotions that she was feeling in favour of appearing calm and unconcerned. As angry and hurt as she was, she couldn't forget what it was she had learned by overhearing their conversation and knew that the truth of what she was facing would also come out in full if she were to talk to him. It was a daunting prospect.

He wasn't sure what to say. He found it hard, to even look in her direction. The truth was, he felt terrible for not telling her the possibilities, even as remote as they were in the first place and knew that she had every right to be furious with finally brought himself to stare at the slayer who stood in front of him, arms folded across her chest with her eyes defying him to defend what he had done and at the same time, desperately begging him to tell him that what she heard wasn't true. She had no idea how much he wanted to. Sighing heavily, he gave, what he hoped could be considered a smile, however weak and stepped toward her.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now." He said with a quietness that surprised her. "I can't begin to explain myself. I wasn't even going to come here, but Duncan told me I needed to get you to the dojo. He thinks you still have a job to do."

"A job?" She echoed softly, but with a weariness about it that made him ache to comfort her, to beg for forgiveness. "Right, the slaying…Klossen. My job."

"He won't stop Buffy," Methos continued heavily. "No matter what the consequences, he will come after you."

"Are you saying that I should fight him? Even after finding out what could happen?" She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do.

"I don't know what you should do." Methos admitted. Truth to tell, he wanted to beg her not to fight. He wanted to tell her the risks were too great, that it wasn't that important, but he knew he couldn't do that. This had to be her decision. If she were ever to develop the strength to suppress the quickening, it had to start here and now.

"You'll just step aside and watch will you?" She asked, desperately needing to keep the tears from her eyes. "You'll watch me die if you have to?"

"Buffy, I…"

"It's your job isn't it?" She interrupted, feeling the anger flair within her once more. "It was Giles' job too. He didn't tell me I was going to die either. He found out and….well, lets just say I have a bad habit of free associating."

"I'm not your watcher," Methos reminded her softly. He desperately needed her to understand. "But I do care about you, whatever you may believe of me and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"But I could get hurt." She reminded him coldly. "You knew before I did, remember? I could die. Or, I could become an even worse threat than Klossen. And you were just going to sit there! You were just going to let me. You can do that."

"I can," he admitted. "But I don't want to. I think you have the strength to beat this Buffy. And I would have told you, I swear to you. But you need to believe this of yourself. Nothing I say or do can make your decision for you."

"When I saw you three standing there, talking about what could happen…" she trailed off and wrapped her arms around her waist in a gesture of helplessness. "I died once before Methos and I…"

"Don't want to do it again, I know."

"No, you don't!" She stepped back, and looked away, hating the concern, the caring she could see in his normally secretive eyes. "You don't get it at all. When I heard I could die, I…I felt relieved. I felt…like it was my way out. I'm not a suicidal person Methos, but that was…it was like a get out of jail free card and I wanted to take it. And then when I heard the other option, I was…well, I was terrified. Either I'm strong enough to beat him, or I die. Those options I can handle, but the idea that I could become like that…that I could be that evil, that soulless…" She thought of Angelus taunting her, his cold, empty eyes staring at her in place of Angel's caring ones. She hated the idea that it might be her like that, that she could be that walking shell….that she might go home and hurt her friends for the pleasure of it.

"It terrifies you." He murmured gently. She looked up at him, surprised he could read her so easily. "You don't want to become like him. You don't want to lose who you are. I understand."

"I could hurt you." She gritted her teeth in frustration and fear. He seemed completely unconcerned by it and she couldn't understand why. This was dangerous stuff and she knew he didn't like to put himself in situations that could threaten his life, or the lives of his friends. So why didn't he seem to care? "I could hurt your friends! I could kill you, Duncan, Joe, Richie…I could go home and kill my mom. And nobody could stop me. Could you? You're not that strong."

"I wouldn't let it come to that," he said simply. "I would stop you somehow."

"Then why can't you just stop him instead?" She demanded. She threw her arms in the air wishing she could make all her problems disappear with a simple wave. "It's not completely impossible, you know. And don't give me the prophecy excuse because I can tell you first hand, that they never work out the way you think. Why does it have to be me? Why?"

"Because it's your job." Methos stated calmly. "It's what you were born to do, not me. I'll stop you if I have to Buffy, make no mistake about that. But I can't fight your battles for you."

"This is rich Adam! This coming from someone who goes out of his way to avoid his." She spat angrily. "You go on about me doing my duty, what about yours? What about all those challenges you run away from?"

"Immortality isn't a duty, it's madness." He answered stiffly. "And those challenges are not for any common good or higher calling, they're to rape your opponent of their soul, their power, their life. I won't pretend nobility or an abhorrence of killing as the reason I don't fight, but that doesn't make it logical, or right. I'm not Duncan, or Angel. I don't do the right thing for the sake of it, or try to save the world. I'm just a guy. You're the slayer. Like it or not, this is what you were born to do."

"It used to be so easy," she whispered, wanting to shrink up and disappear. "I was Cinderella before I became the slayer. But even that wasn't perfect y'know? It just seems that way compared to now. Most kids' parents get divorced, not all of them have to save the world on top if it. And I'm not complaining that I'm the slayer Methos, I'm really not. It's the only thing I'm any good at. But I don't know if I have the power to do this…and I'm so afraid to fail. And part of me, a small part of me, still wants to lose. I'm scared that it's that part of me, that weakness that could change me into a demon."

"You're not weak." Methos assured her. "You're afraid you could be a threat if you fight, I understand that. And I understand the relief. I saw that relief in Celine's eyes when I finally agreed to let her go. It frightens me, but I understand it. What you see as weakness, I see as strength. That compassion, that desperate need not to become something you hate could save you."

Buffy shook her head and sat down on the couch, finding it difficult to remember the last time she had felt so lost.

"I wish…" she trailed off, afraid to voice what she was feeling in front of the one man, who despite all rhyme and reason did not think she was weak. She watched as he sat down beside her and gently took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand in an attempt to soothe her where words couldn't.

"You wish what?"

"Angel always knew what to do." She finished, lamely. "I mean, I'm the slayer. I did the job, but Angel…he knew…I wish I could say it better than that. He was always there, when I needed someone."

"You're wiser than you know." Methos smiled at her, knowing that one day she would have the courage to trust her own judgment explicitly, but that that courage would not come without a price. "You were wise enough to do what you had to, even though it cost you someone you loved. You can do this too."

"Do I have to decide now?" She asked. "Can I take a day? Does Duncan really need me in the dojo?"

"No," Methos admitted. He sighed, knowing that lying to her would only increase the rift between them. "I came here on my own. I…I missed you. I hated to think you were mad at me."

"I'm not mad," she sighed, her shoulders deflating and a slightly warm feeling settling in the pit of her stomach upon hearing Methos say that he missed her. "I saw you, Duncan and Joe talking, I heard what could happen and I wigged that's all. I had this flashback to when I heard Giles and Angel and I just didn't want to be here. I didn't want to think of you being anything like Giles. And it's not because I don't like him. I miss him so much. I miss them all. I don't want you reminding me of them because it hurts too much. Does that make any sense?"

"If there's anything I understand the most, it's a flashback-inspired…wig? Is that the word?" Methos shook his head and winked. "What does that mean anyway?"

"You really are old aren't you?" She said with a slight twinge of wonder in her voice. He smiled. "Can you just tell me one thing? If…if it were up to you. As a watcher…would you ask me to fight him?"

"As a watcher, yes." Methos admitted. "As a friend…"

He trailed off, wondering just how to voice it without alarming her in any significant way, or influencing her decision. She asked for his honesty, but he wasn't sure she could handle the full extent of it. He chose to smile softly instead and looked away as he spoke.

"As a friend I would get down on my knees and beg you not to."


	28. A Plan For the Worst

"Joe? You there? Joe?" Methos entered Joe's apartment and looked around for signs that the watcher was home. The immortal buzz was sometimes both a blessing and a curse as if this were Duncan or Richie's place he would be able to feel weather they were home without having to resort to opening the door and looking around.

"I'm over here," Joe's head poked its way out from the kitchen. "What's up?"

"Do you still have that book on you?" He didn't have to tell him what book

"Yea, it's over there on the coffee table. I was going through it last night trying to find some way of beating this guy without asking the kid to fight him." He sighed defeatedly, indicating it hadn't been accomplished. Nevertheless, Methos asked anyway.

"Anything?"

"Nothing man, I'm sorry." Joe said with a sad shake of his head.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Methos burst out angrily. "Why do this to her? Why would the guardians make a prophecy like that? It's bad enough the slayer has no choice but to fight and die young, why make her potentially an evil?"

"I dunno man, I wish I had the answers." Joe said honestly. "She going to fight him?"

"She's not sure yet." Methos admitted. "But she can't…I won't let her fight until we have some sort of backup plan. If she becomes a danger Joe, then believe me when I say we will wish we had let Klossen live instead."

"I hear you man, but what can we do? I mean, he's too strong for you and Mac to fight." The frustration in Dawson's voice was palpable.

"I have an idea, but I need you to do some research for me." Methos told him. "I need you to find out, if it will be possible for me to take her head."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, none of us can take Klossen's head, correct?" Joe nodded and Methos went forth with his theory. "He's too strong. His quickening would contain too much power. My guess is if anybody BUT the slayer took his head it would only spread the evil, am I right?"

"You are, which is why I don't see how you'd be able to take her head if she became a danger. She'd be even more powerful." Joe shook his head as if to answer the question more fully. "No, I don't think it would be possible."

"Hear me out Joe, just for a second." Methos insisted. He was sure enough of his theory, but he needed Dawson to help prove him right. "The quickening she receives is going to be pretty powerful. And I can tell you from experience that they leave regular immortals weak and dazed afterwards for quite some time…not up to our full strength at all. If my theory is correct, than she'll be weakened afterwards even longer than that…physically anyway. If she's affected negatively by Klossen's quickening than her soul will be gone right away. But her power…well that will take a little while to kick in."

"It's possible," Joe acknowledged. "I could look it up, try to figure a little more out. But how will you know if she's still her or not?"

"I think I'm the only one that will know," Methos said quietly. "I'm the only one that…I'll know. And I'll be there to incapacitate her somehow after the fight. I'm guessing I'll only have about a day or so before the power kicks in. I think I could take her head before that happens and survive it."

"Maybe," Joe murmured. "But Methos if you're wrong…you've done great evil before. Are you willing to take the risk that it could force you to do it again?

"Look Joe, either way we're talking something that could be of dark quickening proportions. I'm your best bet when it comes to resisting." He smiled ironically. "Oddly enough it's that evil inside of me that would make me your best candidate. Duncan is too good, too noble. The temptation would be too great…we saw what happened before. I on the other hand…well I've seen it before, done it before without another power influencing me to do so. I don't have the drive, or the thirst for blood anymore…I know how it feels and I'm the least likely to be tempted."

"That's assuming we're right about the power taking time to assert itself." Joe reminded him. "I don't like planning like this Methos, it feels wrong."

"She doesn't want to become a danger Joe." Methos assured him. "It's what terrifies her the most. Believe me, if I can come up with a way to eliminate that possibility…I think she will fight."

"Is that what you want?" Joe questioned gently. Methos didn't like the look in the watcher's eyes. It was obvious he sensed the depth of his feelings and that made him feel vulnerable, a feeling he tried at all costs to avoid.

"What I want Joe, is for her to be safe." He told him with a sigh. "But I know that won't happen. I want to do whatever I can, however small for her."

"She could still die Methos," Joe pointed out. "All this is hinging on what happens if she wins, she could also lose. We have to be prepared for that."

"Well, if my theory proves true, than I should be able to take Klossen's head the same way right?" He bit his lip thoughtfully. "I mean, I can't take it now…he's too powerful, but if he takes her quickening…it should weaken him the same way. Either way, the quickening is our best bet. But I need to know. I need you to find out for me."

"I'll do my best man." Joe promised him. "Where is she now?"

"Back at my place." Methos said casually, hoping Joe couldn't here the relief in his voice. Her time at Richie's had been nerve wracking in a way he couldn't describe. Every second he worried for her safety and he hated the feeling. "She's taking some time to decide what to do, but without a contingency plan in place, I won't let her do anything. Be quick about it OK Joe? This is too important."

"I'll be in touch." Joe said as he watched the other man get up and leave the apartment. Poor guy, he thought to himself.

Buffy was training with Duncan again at his dojo within a day or so. She said nothing to Methos, Duncan, Richie or Joe about whether or not she actually intended to fight Klossen, but instead chose to take things one step at a time. She had fallen behind on her sword training and if she didn't work extra hard, it wouldn't matter what might happen should she beat Klossen, because he'd end up taking her head and instead. Methos had attempted to ask her if she had made her decision when she announced she'd be going to Duncan's, but all she had been able to tell him was that she would jump off that bridge when she came to it. Methos did not see the humour.

Despite everything weighing on her, she felt lighter somehow. Methos' promise not to allow her to become a danger had relieved her. She didn't know how he would do it, and it really didn't matter if neither did he. She knew he would find a way and that was enough. She had her suspicions that he had an idea and had enlisted Joe in working out the finer details, but he would tell her nothing so she had finally given up asking.

He willingly came with her to Duncan's though, throwing a renewed effort into her training that had been lacking in the recent weeks due to the information they had received. She still couldn't beat him, but she was getting better. Every time he bested her, she learned something about the way he moved, the way he fought. She knew she would never learn everything, for he had been around far too long, but she knew much already about his more clever tricks.

It was necessary to develop cunning and skill as well as work on her strength. That much had to be done alone, for neither Duncan nor Methos were as strong as she was. Thankfully Duncan had a full bodied punching bag that he willingly filled with a heavier substance to make it more difficult for her to hit. Richie had offered earlier to be a human punching bag as his immortal wounds would heal, but she refused to take him up on it, despite Methos' rather earnest insistence that the kid had finally come up with a good idea. Immortal he may be, but that didn't mean she could kick the crap out of him even if it was for a good cause.

She had to suppress her strength when fighting Methos however, for it would be too easy to simply knock him over than to avoid the cut of his blade. She had gotten nicked and sliced a few times and although slayers healed quickly, she did not heal as fast as immortals. More than once she found herself taking a time out to apply first aid to a wound.

At one such point, Methos came over and sat next to her, watching her wince as she applied the rubbing alcohol to the cut.

"You even going to apologize?" She snapped, venting her frustration at losing the last fight at him.

"Why should I apologize for winning?" He responded, unaffected by the anger in her voice. "If anyone should apologize it should be you. That last fight was a complete waste of my time."

"YOUR time!" She exclaimed. "Nobody asked you to be here Methos! You could just as easily be lounging in Joe's and mooching off beer if this is really that trying for you."

"You know I didn't mean it that way," he amended which was the closest she supposed she would get to an apology, at least from him. "Pardon me if I'm on edge, but we haven't heard anything of Klossen lately and that's just not very settling. It's not right for him to allow you this time to train. What's he doing? Where is he?"

"Will I fight him when he does show?" She finished for him.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"No, but you were thinking it." She sighed and stared at him before taking a band-aid out of the box and beginning to open it. "It's a fair question, but the answer is I just don't know. Until you have a plan in case the worst happens…"

"I'm working on it," he promised, taking the band-aid from her and applying it with extreme gentleness to her arm. It took her by surprise as tenderness was not a quality that he generally displayed outside of his apartment and even then it was rare. Duncan was heading there way, having seen the two of them sitting together which caused Buffy to realize just how close a friendship the two really had despite their constant teasing of one another. God how I miss Willow and Xander, she thought wistfully.

"You ready to try again?" Duncan was asking her. She took a deep breath and nodded, banishing all thoughts of the Scooby gang and her old life as she stood up once more and took the sword given to her.

Methos took a stance in front of her, readying himself for the fight when the phone rang, startling all three of them. Methos watched as Duncan answered it, then turned to him.

"It's for you," he informed them as he took Methos' sword and replaced it with the phone. "Joe."

"Hey Joe," Methos said into the receiver. He turned from them, not wanting to allow them to see his face as they conversed. Even though he was an expert at shielding emotions and reactions, he didn't want to take the chance that Duncan might be able to read him.

"I did that checking that you wanted me to do," Joe told him without any delay. "Now, I'm only about ninety percent certain, but if that's enough for you than your theory should be correct."

"You mean if she were weak enough…"

"Then you could take her head and keep your soul, such as it is, in tact." Joe's voice was dead-pan, letting Methos know that he wasn't happy with the idea, but it was all they had. It would have to do. They couldn't allow Klossen to run around unchecked.

"Thanks Joe."

"Duncan isn't going to like this." Joe reminded him. "He'll want to be the one to do it, you know that. He's not going to trust you to…"

"To be able to handle it?" Methos finished for him, a rueful grin on his face. "Believe me, I know that. I'll convince him Joe, don't worry. Thanks for doing the research."

"You be careful OK?" Joe said somewhat gruffly. "Train her well. She's just a girl…"

"I know Joe," Methos told him softly. "They all are."


	29. The Slayer's Second

"Joe figured out how to do it didn't he?" Methos had been aware of Buffy's presence right behind him before she even spoke. He plastered a neutral expression on his face as he turned to face her.

"Do what?"

"C'mon Methos, don't try to trick me. I didn't just fall off the truck." She paused a moment as a singular thought interrupted her diatribe. "I wonder where that comes from…"

"What did Joe have to say?" Duncan had approached the two of them, casually twirling his katana as he spoke. It was a gesture of supposed innocence, but there was a warning in the way he looked at Methos. Tread lightly, he seemed to be saying. Methos shrugged, not wanting to tell Buffy what he knew in front of Duncan just yet. The highlander would have to know eventually, but he needed the opportunity to run it by her first, to make her understand what she would be undertaking before Duncan could interfere.

"Nothing," he replied innocently.

"You know for a five thousand year old immortal, you're a real sucky liar." Buffy said with some annoyance. Duncan shot her an amused look.

"You just figuring that out?"

"Sometimes highlander I wonder just how naïve you really are," Methos said darkly. "But in this case you're right, I was a little slow on the draw. Buffy, Joe's call was concerning you. And that's why I will tell you first. Without Mac around."

"Methos…" Mac's protest was cut off by Buffy lifting her hand and turning to him.

"He's right Duncan," she said as her eyes met Methos'. "I want to know what it is alone. It's nothing against you, it's just that…it's personal. Can you understand that?"

"I could just ask Joe," Duncan said mildly. Methos knew he was just trying to bait him, so he nodded equally as serenely and smiled a little bit.

"You could if you're really that eager." He told him, trying to make the other immortal feel as childish as he was behaving. "I never said I wouldn't tell you what Joe said, only that I wanted to run it by the slayer first, given that it does have to do with her life."

Buffy watched the two converse and noticed much more than just words being exchanged between them. It was obvious that Duncan and Methos' friendship ran incredibly deep, but that part of Duncan still didn't trust Methos completely, because of what he had learned about his past. Buffy had learned the same thing, but to her it hadn't mattered the same way. It was in the past, and she knew how easily past and present versions of the same men could be such polar opposites. In that respect, she was older than Duncan MacLeod.

Duncan reminded her more and more of Angel, but oddly enough that thought didn't comfort her. There was something in his protective manner that she didn't like, that unnerved her. He was a man with very deep morals and belief in the value of good and nobility. In that respect, he was very much like Angel, but he had also been a clan cheiftan making him very different indeed. Duncan needed to be in charge, needed to be the hero. He needed to be the protective one and Buffy had never been good with being overprotected. Even at her weakest, her independent streak was too strong.

Maybe that's why she worked so well with Methos. She knew that he wanted to protect her, and wanted to help her, but would never overstep his bounds or step on her duty. He would be there afterwards and before the battle, but never during. He knew when to step aside and let her fight. Duncan couldn't understand that and maybe never would. He may have Angel's heart, but Methos had his mind.

And despite how similar the two men were, they would neither of them ever be Angel. He was lost to her forever. And that was something she was beginning to own up to. It still hurt, but the guilt was beginning to fade. Maybe in time she would even be able to date again. But it wouldn't be anytime in the near future no matter how many people she met like Angel.

Duncan was still staring at Methos, slightly annoyed with him, but his shoulders had dropped slightly in acquiescence. He nodded in understanding.

"I'll talk to you later then?" He smiled and picked up his sword as he left.

Buffy watched him go, slightly worried that she had caused the two friends to fight over something to do with her. When she looked to Methos however, he appeared unconcerned.

"Don't worry about Mac, his pride is just a little wounded," he told her as if sensing her concern. "He doesn't like to be placed in the supporting role. He likes to think that this is a show all about him or something."

"Stop stalling Methos," she said firmly. "Joe told you how to stop me if I become dangerous didn't he?"

"He confirmed a theory I had," Methos admitted to her. "Are you OK with discussing this?"

"You mean killing me?" She shrugged and attempted to sound flippant, but Methos could tell there was an edge of distress to her voice. "I'm a slayer remember? It's kinda part of the package. Besides, I told you I want you to have a backup plan. You can at least tell me what it is."

Methos proceeded to reluctantly explain his theory about the quickening weakening her and the knowledge that he could take her head should he manage to incapacitate her somehow. She listened quietly, not interrupting or saying anything until his was finished.

"Basically that's my idea," he finally said, "although if you don't trust me to be able to handle your quickening then you can choose whoever you like. I will understand, knowing what you know about me."

"That's exactly why it has to be you Methos." She told him. "You remember you said you think that we met for a reason? What if you were meant to be the one to stop me…or him, if I lose?"

"You really think I was meant to be your second?" Methos ran a hand through his hair, hating that they must go through this conversation. "I already killed one…"

"Exactly, and that's why it has to be you." She bit her lip and met his eyes. "You know me. If I…if I become something evil, you'll be the only one who will be able to figure it out."

"We still don't know how I will be able to incapacitate you after the fight." He pointed out, wanting to get off the current topic.

"Can you get your hands on a tranquilizer gun?" Buffy asked, thinking back to Giles' library and the tranq gun he kept in the weapons cabinet for when they had been hunting werewolves.

"Yea, I can probably get Joe to locate one." Methos said with a nod. "That will give me time to restrain you somehow…"

"When I wake up Methos, if you…" she paused, trying to force down the fear that almost consumed her when she thought of what might happen. "If you even for a second thing that I'm evil, I don't want you to hesitate. I want you to trust your judgment. If I can't convince you I'm me, then you're better off not taking your chances. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Methos said sadly. Buffy nodded.

"See? That's why it has to be you." She smiled weakly. "Hey, don't worry. Only a really good friend would promise to kill me. I trust you."

"I guess that means you've made your decision then?" He asked, fully knowing she had, but needing to hear it for sure.

"Yea, I have." She said with a sigh. "I don't really have much of a choice."

"No," Methos murmured. "Sometimes none of us do."

"You wanna train some more?" She asked him, breaking him out of whatever flashback-type memory he had whisked himself away to. He looked up at her and nodded, lifting his sword and positioning himself. She's doing the right thing, he told himself. So why was he so afraid?


	30. Late Night Snack

Buffy found sleep difficult to come by that night. Her mind swirled with troubled thoughts about their plan. It was easy to say the words to Methos, to tell him to take her out if he suspected her, but it was another entirely to realize that he meant it when he said yes. The saddened sincerity in his tone frightened her. How would he know if she had gone evil or not? What would she have to do or say to prove it to him?

What if she couldn't convince him? She would taste the same end that Angel had. Perhaps she deserved it. I died once, she thought bravely. I can do it again.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes angrily, looking towards the clock near the duvet that she slept on. It was three in the morning.

She was suddenly terribly homesick. She remembered countless times when she would wake up late at night and sneak into the kitchen only to find her mother in there, preparing some sinfully fattening desert. They usually didn't talk these nights, but there was always a mutual understanding and need for each other's company. Her mother may not have understood her life as the slayer, but she knew when her daughter was hurting and the two of them had an uncanny knack of waking up at the same time in the night.

She rolled out of bed and silently crept toward the kitchen area of Methos' apartment thinking that a late night snack sounded good even without her mother to make it for her.

She attempted to remove the dishes from the cupboard as quietly as possible but it was no use. Within moments she heard rustling within Methos' room and then watched as he emerged clad in his boxers and an open housecoat, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he headed towards the kitchen.

"I woke you up didn't I?" She wrung her hands slightly feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Methos reassured her. "I wasn't sleeping all that soundly to begin with."

"I was just going to make myself a snack," she said, her voice quiet even though they were the only ones in the apartment. "I can go back to bed though if you want to sleep."

"Don't be silly," Methos told her with a smile. "However if you're going to make something to eat feel free to feed me as well."

"You have two feet and a heartbeat," Buffy teased lightly. "What am I, Aunt Jamima?"

"No, but I'm an old man," Methos joked in return. "And up far past my bed time."

"Well then 'old man', you'd better sit down." Buffy pulled a chair from the table and winced as she felt her sore shoulder react to the effort. The day's training had been vigorous and Buffy's body had not fully healed yet. Methos sat down and removed his housecoat but said nothing. She mentally noted the state of natural sensuality that came from him simply sitting there with a sleepy look in his normally alert hazel eyes. She shook the thought away, wondering where it came from and proceeded to look for something edible.

"What are you making anyway?" Methos was asking her. She had opened the fridge to peak at the contents, but was unsure as to what it was she was looking for.

"I don't know." She admitted. "I couldn't sleep. I was thinking maybe warm milk or something? I heard somewhere that makes you sleepy."

"Load of bull," Methos replied shaking his head. "Although if there's chocolate milk in there, it might not be a bad idea just to try it…"

"There's no milk or chocolate milk." Buffy said with a frown. "Didn't you do any grocery shopping this week? There's only beer in here…and a lot of it."

"That can make you sleepy if you drink enough." Methos told her with a wink. Buffy chuckled, but shook her head.

"Last time I had a drink I nearly got eaten by a big demon snake." She smiled ruefully remembering Giles' words of reproach. "I won't make that mistake for a while."

"You'll have to tell me about that one some day." Methos told her, with a soft laugh. It was odd. Not many thing surprised him any more, and yet this girl constantly did so at every turn. He had seen so many things both natural, supernatural and immortal and yet in the short time he had known her, she had opened his eyes to so much more. He had a feeling that she was a wealth of interesting stories and experiences, that he had only begun to scratch the surface. He knew people like her were rare in that he would never grow bored. And yet she was mortal and a slayer to boot. He hated the idea that they would never have the time to share all their stories. She was just becoming comfortable with him, just beginning to fully trust him the way she trusted her friends back home.Think positively, he instructed himself. She could beat this if she believed in herself. He had to believe that as well.

He smiled softly once more as he watched her pad around the kitchen looking for something that could be considered a snack food. It occurred to him, as it never had before that in this room, at this moment, she was beautiful.

Oh sure, he had always known she was pretty, from the instant he saw her, but her attractiveness had been muted by grief and pain. She had appeared a martyr, or a fallen warrior to her. Here she was just a girl. A young girl granted, but a beautiful girl nonetheless.

There was nothing specific to mark the transformation. She wore only a simple light blue tank top with white pajama pants decorated with little yellow birds on them with the phrase 'chicks rule' written beneath them. It was cute, but not too cute. Her only jewelry was a simple silver cross that hung around her neck.

Her hair was in a hastily thrown together ponytail with bits and pieces falling out in different places, some curling into wispy blond tendrils that framed her face. She wore no makeup, but her face held a healthy glow to it that had previously been buried under pain and heavier thoughts. Here, in the darkened kitchen she seemed almost free.

He wondered if she was aware of just how alluring she seemed at that moment. She turned to him and held up a box of crackers grimacing slightly.

"Tell me you have cheese, otherwise all we're eating for a snack is crackers with beer on them."

"I'm game." Methos said with a grin. Obviously not. He watched her some more, realizing that regardless of how attractive she was at the moment, she still looked very much the seventeen year old child that she was. She was mature in many ways, but not as much as ways of the heart. She had a long road ahead before Methos could consider her his equal. He wanted her to live to see that road. She was still staring at him. "There's cheese in the bottom crisper I think."

Pulling the cheese she inspected it to make sure it was free of mold, mildew or anything else of suspicious nature. Finding it clean she proceeded to cut it into squares and melted it onto the Ritz crackers. When she set the plate in front of him he was smiling a secretive smile that worried her slightly.

"What?" She questioned, suddenly self conscious. "Is my hair sticking up in the air or something?"

"No, I was just enjoying this." Methos told her.

"This?" She questioned. "What do you mean?"

"This sitting here…me and you, having a midnight snack and not talking at all about Klossen, slayers, quickenings or me killing you." He smirked and picked up a cracker.

"More like a three AM snack, and now you've gone and jinxed it by brining it up." She pointed out, though the thoughts weren't as pressing on her spirit as they were lying in bed only moments ago.

"I think we can take it." Methos said confidently. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a gourmet chef slayer? These crackers are fantastic. You should become a cook."

"I wonder…" she trailed off as she considered his comment. "What will I do when this is over?"

"What do you mean?" He asked her. "I wasn't serious about the chef thing. I mean, not that the crackers aren't good, but that really shouldn't be something to base a career on."

"Not the cracker thing Mr. Sarcasm," she retorted. "I just mean….when this is over…if I win, what will I do? I mean, I can only stay here so long and impose on you. Eventually I have to figure out what to do with my life. I guess I never really had much of a future to worry about and now…"

She was beginning to look worried again and the old fears and doubts returned to line her features. Methos felt a weight descend onto his shoulders as he watched the transformation.

"Hey, let's jump off that bridge when we come to it OK?" He used her exact words to lighten the mood, but Buffy couldn't help but notice the 'we' in them. She bit her lip, wondering just how good a friend Methos considered himself. He was a wonderful person and had helped in more ways than he would ever know, but the idea that he considered himself a part of her permanent future made him seem too much like Angel. She remembered one night they had speant together in the cemetery talking and kissing when they should have been patrolling. Angel had asked her if she ever thought about the future.

"Angel when I think about the future, all I see is you," She had told him, meaning it with all her heart. "All I want is you." His response to her had been a simple "I know the feeling," but the emotion behind the words had told her all she needed to know. The look in Methos' eyes was telling her more than she wanted to know once more and she felt herself shift away from him slightly, nervousness creeping upon her replacing the earlier comfortability.

He felt her pulling away from him again and inwardly felt bad for pushing too hard. He had planned all along to try to convince her to go back to Sunnydale, but he was finding more and more that he wanted her to stay. He couldn't think of one good reason why she should other than he would miss her and that wasn't good enough, so he thought it best the topic be avoided all together until Klossen was dealt with. Obviously she felt differently.

"Methos, I…"

She was cut off by the sharp ring of the phone. Methos nearly hit the roof and the slayer gave out a short yelp of alarm. Reaching over to the counter, he picked it up as swiftly as possible.

"Yea?"

"You're awake?" The voice was Joe's on the other end sounding quite surprised. Methos was suddenly irritated by the watcher's interruption of their snack.

"No I'm talking to you in my sleep Dawson it's one of my special powers," he said sarcastically. "Of course I'm awake. The question is why are you awake…and calling me at three in the morning?"

"Bad news," Joe told them sadly. "Looks like our friend Klossen has struck again."

"How so?" Methos asked, his heart dropping at the thought.

"I was closing up the bar tonight when I opened the door to the back alley to throw some garbage in the dumpster. It wouldn't fit. The dumpster had about three corpses in it…looked like they might have been there a couple days. Above it, the word 'slayer' was written in their blood. He's getting impatient."

"Did you call Mac?" Methos asked, ignoring the sinking feeling of dread.

"Mac and Richie are both on their way down here." Joe confirmed. "I think it's time you told everyone what the plan is Methos. The others deserve to know what you're going to attempt here. This thing is getting way out of control."

"I agree," Methos replied shortly. "I'll see you soon."

"What did Joe say?" Buffy asked worriedly as she watched Methos hang up the phone and put his housecoat back on, tying it around his waist as he spoke. His face was a mask of calm determination. She didn't like it.

"We have to go to Joe's."


	31. No More Waiting

"I can't wait much longer," Buffy told Joe solemnly as she stared at the scrawled word meant for her and her alone. "I gotta do something soon. More people have died. He's gotta be stopped."

"You're nowhere near ready." Methos said calmly, meeting her eyes and daring her to challenge. "He'll kill you in the blink of an eye."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing." Buffy suggested softly. Richie and Duncan both registered shock on their faces whereas Joe's and Methos' showed no surprise.

"You can't just let him win Buffy." Duncan told her sternly. "Not only for your life, but for the lives of everyone he would kill if he had your power. If he's like this now imagine what he'd do if he were twice as powerful!"

Buffy sighed, knowing she would have to explain Joe and Methos' theory to Duncan but reluctant to do so. The wind whistled softly through her hair and she found herself shiver slightly despite the warm climate. It was a morbid way of thinking, but there were three more dead people that had lost their lives because of her. She could no longer think of herself.

"Let's go inside OK?"

The others nodded and waited until the door was shut and Joe had turned the lights on before turning to her for an explanation.

"If I lose to him, he can still be defeated." Buffy admitted to the others. She looked to Joe and Methos for encouragement but found it only in Methos who looked saddened by what he knew she was about to say, but encouraging all the same. She proceeded to explain to Duncan and Richie that if she fought Klossen and he took her head, he would be vulnerable for another immortal to take the quickening if they were waiting in the wings to do so. "It's possible. It's not the best solution, but if I can't beat him and even if I can, we'll need this as a backup anyway."

"You're talking about losing to this guy like it's no big deal!" Richie exclaimed angrily.

"I'm a slayer Richie, it's kinda what I'm supposed to do." She replied sadly. "I did it once, I can do it again if I have to. I'm not going to try to lose to him, but if I do, it's not the end of the world. He can be stopped. If I continue to train though more people will die."

"So what, you play the martyr then?" Duncan asked her quietly, an unreadable expression danced in his dark brown eyes.

"No, I'm…"

"Sounds like it to me," Richie spat, interrupting whatever she had just been about to say. "Just cause you're a slayer it's your job to die?"

"It's my job to protect people." She explained feeling more and more resolved in her decision by watching his reaction. Joe had opened the bar and was pouring everyone drinks but staring at her out of the corner of his eye with a look of proud sadness on his face.

"It's my job to protect people from creatures like him." She explained patiently. "And it's something that I've been hiding from ever since I did something that I couldn't forgive myself for. I don't know if I will ever be able to. But I do know that I can stop him, however it might happen. And I mean to do it before anybody else gets hurt."

"Who's going to take the quickening?" Duncan asked calmly. "There's no guarantee that it's completely safe, is there?"

"No," she admitted. "But it's a safer bet than anything we've got. And I trust in the person I've chosen as my second." She looked towards the eldest immortal and smiled. "I trust in you Methos."

"This has gone far enough." Duncan interjected. "You can't understand what you are doing by picking him. He can't be trusted to….you don't know what he's done."

"That's where you're wrong," she said softly. "Methos told me about his past. And I know that whoever takes this risk doesn't take it lightly."

"You put her up to this didn't you?" Duncan asked him, whirling to face Methos with an accusatory look in his eyes. Methos felt the old anger well up inside him as he saw the distrust take up residence on the highlander's face. "You can't stand the thought of someone else having the power to take your head."

"If you think for one second that I'm actually after this guy's power highlander than you're more deluded than he is!" Methos spat angrily. He hated the look of judgment he saw on Duncan's face, hated the idea that to him, he would always be a murderer. That this man, this child could look upon him as if he understood what it had been like made him more than furious. To know that to Duncan MacLeod he would never be a good man no matter what he did hurt him to the core.

"Why not?" Duncan challenged. "It would make you impossible to kill, wouldn't it?"

"It would also make me a soulless monster," Methos returned. "And despite what you think of me, I do still have my soul. I'm a man Duncan, flawed yes, but a man nonetheless. You will never see the good in me, never see me for who I am because you are too busy looking with eyes that see who I was. The slayer does not have that problem. I did not put her up to this, nor do I want what she is asking of me. If she asked you this moment I would gladly watch you do it and hope for the best."

"I know you would rather it be you Duncan and so would he. And that's why it has to be him." She shot a look of pleading at Duncan hoping he would see in Methos what she had seen in him from the beginning.

"Buffy think about what you are doing," Duncan implored her. "I know you trust him and I know you're close but you are not the most important thing to him. Surviving is the only thing he truly cares about and if the power corrupts him then none of us will be safe. None but him."

"I've thought about it," she told him coldly. "It was not a decision I made on a whim. I don't know if this is a jealousy thing or what, but even if I didn't trust Methos to do this Duncan it wouldn't be you I chose. I'm not an idiot. I know he wants to survive. So do I. And if I can give him that chance….if I can give anybody that chance, then I'm going to pick the person I think capable of it. I think Methos is the only one here strong enough."

"I think you're both wrong." Duncan said flatly.

"Look Mac, I'm sorry she bruised your ego, but what's done is done." Methos interrupted. Frustration was quickly taking the place of the hurt.

"I can't be a part of this." Duncan said shaking his head.

"If you're really all that concerned Mac you can be there as well to take my head if I can't handle it." Methos blurted out in annoyance. "Would that make you feel better? To know that I'm not a danger anymore?"

"I don't want to kill you Methos!" Duncan exclaimed, as if surprised that Methos would jump to that conclusion.

"You could have fooled me," Methos replied wearily. "Look Mac, I don't want to fight. And whatever trust issues you have are your problem not mine. I'm sorry there are evils in my past, I truly am. But this isn't about me, or you. It's about her. If you cannot abide by this decision then we will fight if that's what has to happen. I would rather it not, but I will understand if that's what you need to do to ease your conscience. If you truly don't want my head MacLeod than you had better resign yourself to the fact that I do indeed have an unpleasant past, and that I am still doing this no matter what. The only way to stop me is to kill me. Make your choice."

Duncan stared at Methos for a moment, but said nothing, ultimately choosing to stay silent and allow the planning to continue for now anyway. He had no doubt that Duncan may still try to convince Buffy that the plan was foolish or that he was the wrong choice, but figured if he kept them from being alone in the room together, Duncan wouldn't get the chance. The others meanwhile were talking amongst themselves about where Klossen could be.

Buffy listened only half way to the others, all the while knowing that before she fought him there were some things she had to finish.

Methos turned back to Buffy and tipped her chin to meet his gaze. "Are you sure of this? You want to fight as soon as you can? I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to die," she told him sincerely, realizing for the first time since she left Sunnydale that she truly meant it. "I want to live my life so badly it hurts. But I can't let others die in my place. I dunno, maybe I've finally found the spirit of Celine. This is my job and I have to do it."

"How are you going to find him?" Richie wondered. "Put a note on the bodies out there that says 'I get the message come and get me'?"

"He's doing this on his turf," Joe added grimly. "We're playing by his rules."

"Then we have to find him and make him play by ours." Buffy said firmly. "This can't be his game anymore."

"How are we going to regain control here?" Joe asked. "I mean, he's been one step ahead the entire time."

"We'll figure something out," Buffy said determinedly. Briefly she entertained the thought of calling Giles and asking his advice but knew that ultimately she couldn't do that. Not only would he want to know where she was and what she was doing, but he would insist on coming to Seacouver and helping to defeat Klossen. She couldn't take the chance that Klossen might target Giles, in order to get to her. He had killed so many already and the only thing that kept her going, kept her sane was the fact that although tragic, she hadn't known them. They were a faceless dead. She didn't think she could bear the guilt of the death of any more loved ones. They were still staring at her, waiting for her to say something useful, however all she could do was lean into Methos for support, realizing how completely exhausted she was.

"Guys, can we…can we do this tomorrow?" She yawned involuntarily as she spoke. "He's done for the night. And he can't hurt anyone tomorrow during the day. I'd like to get some sleep before…" She looked to Methos hopefully. "Can we go home?"

"Yea," Methos said softly sensing the slayer's need to escape. "It's late. We'll meet here tomorrow."

Duncan nodded and left, muttering a terse good bye to the two of them. Joe decided to stay as did Richie who sat down at the stool and took a large drink of beer. Methos looked to her and led her out and back to his car and home where sleep awaited them.

When they arrived back at Methos' place however, Buffy felt anything but ready for bed. It was clear by Methos' actions that he felt the same way as he sat down beside her almost automatically, flipping through the channels, but not really watching whatever it was that was on.

Before he realized it, she had slipped her small hand into his and pulled his arm around her, settling down into the crook of his arms as she yawned once more, and closed her eyes.

It was a wordless agreement of comfort and trust that they gave one another on the couch that night. Methos found himself sinking into that comfort as he rested his head against her soft blond hair and closed his eyes as well. In the morning they would wake to face a challenge he wasn't sure they could defeat, but tonight they would just be two good friends, falling asleep together in front of a flickering tv.


	32. Will You Do Me A Favour?

Methos awoke the next day to find Buffy absent from the couch they had fallen asleep on. He checked the answering machine, but found no messages left from either Joe, Richie or Duncan. He had a feeling that they might still be sleeping or just getting to sleep. It was still daylight so the issue of how to find Klossen was not yet immediate. He put off calling them and waking them until he found Buffy and spoke to her first.

The time had come for the two of them to discuss Buffy's future, post-Klossen. He knew that should she defeat him and should she manage to keep the evil in check, decisions would have to be made about what she would do after.

Methos knew it had to be done now, there would be no other time. She had to go back and he had to convince her to. He was the only one who could and he knew that if he didn't do it now, he would never do it. He was a selfish creature at heart and not prone to bouts of good deeds for the sake of it alone. However, the depth of caring he had for this young slayer was stronger than he ever thought it could be. Much as he wanted her to, she could not stay. Her destiny lay elsewhere. She was better than this. She was better than him.

Buffy knew that Methos was awake as soon as she heard him checking the answering machine outside of her bedroom. She had awoken early that morning having barely slept at all, intending to tie up some loose ends before her fight with Klossen. There was a chance she would live, but if she didn't she had to make sure some things were taken care of. She had left Sunnydale, but that didn't mean her friends and family didn't deserve to know what happened to her should she not make it.

She felt horrible for doing it this way but she had no other choice. Calling them was out of the question, however desperately she wanted to hear their voices. This was the only way she could do it and that would have to be enough, however much they may hate her afterwards.

As soon as she finished, she opened the door to the room, only to come face to face with Methos' fist which had been about to knock on her door. She laughed as did he when the mistake was realized and he stepped aside to let her out. She was nervous as she would be asking a favour of him she wasn't sure he would be willing to grant.

"Morning," he said softly. She smiled.

"Afternoon more like it." She corrected.

"You weren't there when I woke up." It was a simple statement, but the look in his eyes told her he had wished she had been. She shrugged slightly, unsure of what to say to that.

"I had to finish some things."

"Such as?"

"Last minute things," she said evasively.

"Buffy…" the tone in his voice told her she couldn't hide anything from him. It was both comforting and frightening at the same time.

"Look Methos I meant what I said about not wanting to die," she said with a sigh. Her hands were trembling and she wasn't sure why. "But if I do lose…I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," he promised her. Buffy liked that he didn't try to assure her not to talk as if she might die. That he accepted the possibility as a reality let her know she had done the right thing in choosing him.

"I want you to go to Sunnydale and I want you to deliver these to my watcher and my mother." She handed him two envelopes with letters she had written to them inside. "The one to my watcher explains most of what has happened. I want you to fill in the blanks for him if he asks for the details. Don't…don't tell my mother everything. It would only hurt her even more. Just…try to reassure her, however you can. They may hate you for it. I'm sorry for that. But I want them to know. Will you…will you do this for me?"

"That's asking a lot," Methos told her an unwanted lump forming in his throat as he thought of telling her friends and loved ones in detail how she died. He didn't care what they may think of him as the messenger, it was the message he hated the idea of. She nodded, understanding just how much she was asking of him.

"You're welcome to read the letters if you need to…if it helps you to know what to tell them. Somebody has to…" she broke off, tears threatening her as well. "Giles will need to know anyway for his chronicles. Beyond that…I owe it to them. Please Methos. I don't want to have to ask Joe or MacLeod to do this, but I will if I have to. It's you I trust. It's you I want to tell them. You're the one who cares…"

"I'll do it," he said, cutting her off before he lost his nerve completely over what he was about to say. "But you have to do something for me."

"What?"

"If you live…" he began not quite sure how to word what he was about to say without hurting her or making her feel unwanted. "If you defeat Klossen and suppress his power….I want you to leave. I want you to go back to Sunnydale."

"What?" The shock in her tone told him she had not been expecting that. She blinked a moment, unsure of how to respond.

"You heard me," he found himself saying. He looked at the ground not wanting to meet her gaze, afraid she might be angry with him or hurt by the suggestion. She wasn't sure what to think. The prospect was both daunting and welcoming all at once. To live through this, to see her friends again, to be welcomed back and to go on with her life…it was a dangerously appealing thought. And Methos wanted it for her.

"Why?" She wasn't sure what his angle was in this, but was certain there was one. He was her friend, had been her only friend. So why did he want her gone?

"Because you don't belong here." He spoke sadly as if the truth of it pained him. It did, but he would not let her know to what extent. "You are the slayer. This isn't your home. Your duty lies elsewhere."

"It's my duty to fight Klossen," she said stubbornly, resisting the idea, even though she would love nothing else than to see her loved ones again. In truth there was a great amount of fear associated with it, fear that she would not be accepted, fear that they would hate her. It was almost easier to think of them reading the letter and not being able to yell at her.

"Yes it is," Methos agreed, "but I don't think that's an accident. I think that this fight was destined not only to test you, but to get you to realize your true power and your true abilities. Only your willingness to fight him would get you to live again. You had to decide it yourself. Nobody could force you. You stepped up. I think on some level you know what I'm saying."

"If you think I wanted this fight you're fruitier than a nutcake!" She found herself exclaiming, suddenly angry at his logic.

"Wanted? No. Needed? Yes. Whether you like it or not, your destiny will find you, we both know that." His voice dropped and became gentle once more. A wave of tenderness overwhelmed him as he saw the fear in her eyes, a fear he no longer saw as a weakness. Vulnerability is her greatest asset he realized. It will keep her alive. "There's nothing for you here. No battles to fight, no people to save. You need to live in the world you were meant for, of vampires and demons…not immortals and men. I'll deliver your letter if you die, I promise you. But if you live I want you to go. I want you to do what you were meant to do."

"What if…" her voice broke off weakly as a tear slipped down her cheek, unbidden. "What if they don't want me back?"

And there it was out in the open; her true fear. Before the memories of Angel and of the pain she had suffered there were what kept her from returning, but gradually as the anguish of what she had done began to fade and a comfortability with her new life set in, it became more about fear of their hatred and anger, than anything else. The idea that they might hate her for what she had done and that she would deserve it hurt her more than she could say.

Methos wasn't sure how to comfort her. He didn't know her friends, couldn't say for sure that they would accept her and yet something inside him told him they would. Taking her hands in his, he squeezed them gently and met her eyes.

"They will." It was all he could think to say. It was enough apparently because upon hearing it, the slayer leaned into his embrace shaking slightly.

"I miss them," she confessed, her voice muffled in the thickness of his fisherman's sweater. "I think about them everyday. I don't know how they could ever forgive me for just leaving the way I did. They don't even know I'm alive."

"Then don't die." Methos told her. "Stay alive. Defeat Klossen and go back to them. They may not welcome you at first, but you have to try. You have to be prepared to accept whatever anger they have towards you."

"I know," she said with a nod as she stepped back and wiped her eyes slightly. "I think some part of me always knew I would go back."

"They'll understand if you're honest with them." Methos encouraged gently. "Tell them about Angel, make sure they know how much you were hurting."

"I don't know if I can do that," she admitted. "I don't know if I can talk about him to them…I don't know if I can tell Willow to her face that her spell worked. It's in the letter, but…"

"You can and you will." He said firmly. He smiled. "Remember, always remember that you are stronger than you think."

"I'll miss you Methos," she told him seriously. "I don't know if I deserve all the faith you have in me, but I will try my best to live up to it."

"We'll need to call Joe and the others today." Methos told her, choosing not to dwell on what she had just said to him, lest he admit his feelings to her in full and destroy the hard-won trust. "We need to find out how to locate Klossen."

"We will." She said with a firm nod. "However, if you don't mind I think I'm gonna take a quick walk around the block and clear my head. Going home…it's a lot to think about."

"I'll be here." Was all he said as she grabbed a light jacket and left the apartment. As soon as she had gone, he looked down to the letters she had given him. She had told him he could read them and yet something in him hesitated. What would they say about him? About her experience here?

Eventually curiosity got the better of him and with shaking hands, he opened the first one, addressed to her watcher and began to read…


	33. Letters

Giles,

I want to start off by saying I'm sorry for this letter. I'm sorry I have to write it and you have no idea how sorry I am that you are reading it. So I guess I should just cut to the chase and say that this is being written in the event of my death. Wow. It's a bit weird writing that. Kinda makes me feel like a grown-up. If you're old enough to write 'in the event of my death', you're old enough to die right? I guess that's unless you're a slayer.

Yea, I'm stalling. I'm stalling cause I really don't want to do this. I bet you want to read it even less. I wish I could say something better than I'm sorry.

I know you're wondering what happened. Well, simply put what happens to every other slayer in existence. I lost a fight. I lost against someone stronger, and better than me. I tried my best Giles, I really did, but obviously I just wasn't strong enough.

I want you to know that's not your fault. You did your best. No watcher could do more. You treated me as more than just a slayer. You treated me like a person…like a daughter. I know that might sound weird, but in some ways you've been more of a father to me than my real one ever was. Just so you know, I kinda liked it that way.

I know I failed you. Again, I'm sorry for that. There were probably a hundred different things I could have done to prevent this. I guess the obvious one would have been not running away. I wish I could tell you all the reasons why I did, but it would take more time than I've got and a letter isn't the proper place for that. Funny. I can tell you I'm dead, but not why I left.

I can tell you that I was stupid. Leaving was stupid. I know that now. Hindsight and all that. But I want you to know that I died fighting for a good cause. I died doing what slayers are supposed to do. I died fighting. I hope it was honorable. I guess even I can't know that, huh?

There's someone who does though. Someone who saw everything, who knows everything. He's standing right in front of you. He's the one who gave you this letter. His name is Adam Pierson. I can't tell you everything I would like to about him, but I can tell you that he was a friend. And that what happened wasn't his fault either, so please don't blame him.

He was there for me, when I needed someone. He saved me Giles in more ways than I can ever describe. He also saw how I died.

I've asked him to tell you everything, should you want to know. I expect you'll need to for your records. Tell the gang as well if they ask.

In fact, tell them a few other things for me.

Tell Willow that her spell worked. She'll know what I'm talking about. Tell her I don't blame her and that it wasn't her fault that I left. Tell her it was just something I needed to do. Tell her she is my best friend and that will never change. Tell her to stay with the magic. She's good at it. Tell her I love her.

Tell Xander I'm sorry. It's as inadequate for him as it is for you, but it's all I can think of. I never did too well in English. If I did, I could say something more poetic. I wish I could say something that will soothe the anger he's probably feeling. It's his way. Tell him to be angry if he needs to. He deserves it. Tell him to smile though too. I always liked that best about him.

Tell Oz to take care of Willow. I wish I knew him better to say something more exciting, but all I really know about him is that he loves Willow. And that's a good. Oz is a good guy and she'll need him. Tell him for that alone, I love him too.

Tell Cordy that I regret not being closer. I know that will sound odd to her, but we had a lot in common, despite her bitchiness. I used to be a lot like her in so many ways. Tell her to make sure she wins that May Queen crown next year. I'll be very disappointed if she doesn't. Tell her to take care of Xander.

Don't bother talking to my mom unless you want to. I'll be writing her a separate letter that explains as much as I want to reveal to her. Please, don't tell her everything you know. Before I left she found out who I was and couldn't deal. I don't want her to agonize over this anymore than she already will.

Giles I am so sorry. I wish I didn't have to keep writing that. I miss you guys already.

I want to say something better than this. I want to write something that will fix whatever hurt I've caused all of you. But I can't. So I guess that's all I can do.

I love all of you. And I'm sorry.

Buffy

Mom,

I don't know how to say this. I don't know how to write it again. I already did this with Giles and I can't even begin to know how to write it a second time.

I'm sorry we fought. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I wasn't the daughter I should have been…the daughter you wanted. I'm sorry I couldn't make you proud of me. I'm sorry that reading this letter means I'm dead.

Please, don't cry. It's a dumb thing to ask but I hate the idea that I made you cry. After everything else I did.

I know you don't believe everything I said. I know you can't believe it. Even with the proof right in front of your eyes. It's too much. I know that now. I should never have told you.

I know you're wondering how this happened. I wish I could tell you, but I doubt you'd believe that either.

It's my fault. I should have been more careful. It was an accident Mom. An accident I should have been able to prevent.

Don't blame yourself either OK? It's totally not your fault. I know you'll think that cause it's hardwired into your Mom-ness or something, but honestly it's not. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing anybody could do. It was fate. And you can't fight fate. Well you can, but it usually wins.

I love you Mom. No matter how much we fought, or how disappointed you were in me, I love you. You were an amazing Mom. Don't ever think you failed me. It's the other way around. I failed you.

I know that it may be hard, especially without someone to talk to. If you need to, the librarian at Sunnydale High…Giles, you remember him…he can help you understand this. He can explain to you what I can't bear to. I'm took weak Mom. I'm too much of a coward.

I guess that's it. There's nothing left for me to say that will help you.

Tell Dad I love him too. He'll understand this even less than you do. I don't know what message to give him cause I don't ever see him anymore. Tell him whatever you have to. It doesn't really matter I guess.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

-Buffy


	34. Never Be More Ready

Methos waited for Buffy's return, staring at the letters she had written, a sad smile on his face. They sounded so wonderful. Her friends, her watcher, her mother. They sounded like they had truly cared for her, watched out for her. They sounded interesting and unique, like her. Only a different kind of slayer had her friends and family backing her up.  
Methos wanted to meet them, to see how they shaped the girl she was now. But not under these circumstances. He did not want to deliver these letters to them. He did not want to see the heartbreak on their faces, on her watcher's face as he told them how she died. He did not want to be the messenger. He did not want her to die.

A simple thought and yet one that had been haunting him for a long while now, ever since he agreed to be her second. She was still so young, still a child in so many ways. He wanted to see the woman he knew was in there. He wanted to meet her.

He looked at his watch and saw it was getting late. He frowned, wondering what was taking her so long.

He was just about to contemplate looking for her, when the familiar immortal buzz touched him and he knew she was standing behind him.

"The sun will go down soon." She sounded resigned, but determined. A proud smile flitted across his face as he turned to her.

"We should call Joe and the others." He said. She nodded.

"Yes."

"So how is this going to work?" Duncan was asking after they had all assembled at Joe's place to discuss options and ways of finding Klossen. "Any ideas?"  
"Just one," Buffy said as she looked at Joe, then Duncan, then finally Methos. Richie had not yet arrived. "Methos and I patrol until we find him."

"Patrol?" Duncan echoed slightly confused. Buffy smiled a slightly apologetic smile. Clearly he wasn't familiar with Scooby terminology for 'walking around looking for trouble'.

"Canvas the area," Joe was saying for her. "Stay visible…out in the open, right?"

"It's how I did it at home," she agreed with a shrug. "Eventually I'll find him."

Truth be told it was the only way she knew how to do it. Strategy, planning, cunning…these were all things best left to Giles. She might not be too talented in some areas, but she knew how to patrol and she knew approximately where to look. He had stuck to this area thus far, she hoped to catch him before anybody else got hurt.

"Or they'd find you." Methos said grimly. She shot him a look, but said nothing. He seemed less than pleased with this particular idea. He had probably wanted something more than 'we walk around as bait' for the plan. Looking around at the others, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Where's Richie?"

"I don't know," Joe replied, with a shrug. "I called him right after you called me. He should be here soon."

"He should have been here already," Duncan put in, sounding slightly concerned. Buffy had noted earlier on the intense friendship the two men seemed to share. It was interesting to her, as it seemed to be a combination of pupil/student, as well as just two good friends. Sometimes equal, sometimes not, Buffy knew that Duncan cared a great deal for Richie. She certainly hoped nothing had happened.

Despite Duncan's worry however, time was running short. They couldn't dally much longer. The night only lasted so long.

"Well we can't wait here forever." She said brusquely, hoping Duncan wouldn't take what she was saying as insensitive. "If we're doing this, it has to be soon. When he gets here, just tell him to stay put. If we come back together, then you know it went well. If not…"

"That's it?" Duncan echoed, sounding incredulous and slightly angered by his lack of a role in the undertaking.

"It's all we can do," she replied regretfully. "If we're not back by morning…"

"It's gone very very badly." Methos finished.

"And I'm sorry." She added, wanting them to know however she could that she would try her best. Methos touched her arm gently.

"We should go," he said softly. She nodded. As she headed for the door she saw Duncan step forward and address Methos.

"Can I talk to you before you go?"

Methos met Duncan's eyes and saw that there was no accusation or condemnation in them. All he saw was seriousness and concern, two Duncan MacLeod trademarks, but ones he wasn't terribly angered to see. He took a leap of faith and hoped the concern was for him. He looked to Buffy.

"Give me a second OK?"

She nodded, understanding his need to straighten things out with his friend and they moved to a secluded corner of the bar to talk in private.

"Now what Mac? More scolding?" He hadn't meant to take the defensive with MacLeod, but ever since he had learned of his days with the horsemen it just seemed to be a natural reaction. A lot of it was that he knew MacLeod was justified on some level for mistrusting him, but most of it was that he regretted very deeply the loss of the bond he and Mac had shared earlier on in their friendship. He had shattered it, by not telling the highlander right away who he was, and though he didn't think the way Duncan looked at him was entirely fair, he wished desperately to get it back.

"I just want to know why." Duncan admitted. "Why you and not…"

"You?" Methos said with a sigh. It seemed his defensiveness was not misplaced. Duncan wanted to moral majority him again. "Why me and not the hero?"

"I never said…" Duncan attempted to defend himself, but Methos cut him off before he got the chance.

"No you didn't, but it's true." He sighed, shoulders slumping as he felt the will to argue with his friend drain out of him. When you lived past a thousand years as he had, confrontation started to seem rather pointless no matter who it was with. He often wondered why the young couldn't just let go of some things. "You're a hero Mac. I'm not. I've never tried to be. I've done my share of good and bad, but I've never felt the need to be the world's champion, never wanted to fight for the good and innocent."

"So why…"

"Because neither did she," Methos explained with a small smile. He glanced over at Buffy out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. Duncan no longer seemed accusatory now, merely curious. "She's only beginning to realize that she is a hero…like you Mac. Hell, give it a month and I bet she would have chosen you as her second."

"I doubt that." Duncan said softly. Methos was warmed by Duncan's comment, but didn't let it show.

"That's nice…thanks. Look, she's hurting because she's already lost someone she relied on…a hero. That's why she picked me Mac….so she wouldn't lose herself."

"Be careful Methos." Duncan said after a long pause. He reached out and put a hand to Methos' shoulder, and Methos allowed himself to smile this time. It was back in Duncan's eyes…that trust. He wasn't sure how he had done it, or why he now deserved it, but it was there again. And Methos was indescribably grateful to see it once more. He nodded.

"Thanks Mac."

"Ready to go?" Buffy was by his side once more, and he felt himself nod, feeling optimistic for the first time about this plan. They turned to Joe to say goodbye, when a loud clang outside the door startled them. Buffy looked to him, worriedly and Methos suddenly had a very bad feeling.

Joe had already opened the door and was closing it now, an envelop in hand. He read the name on the front of it, and frowned.

"Joe what is it?" Duncan was asking. The look on Joe's face was not a welcome one.

"It's a note from him," Joe said with a sigh. Nobody needed to ask who 'he' was.

As if on instinct, Buffy made a run for the door, wrenching it open, but returning, a few seconds later with a frustrated look on her face. She snatched the note from Joe as she did so and read it. Her face fell as she did so.

"He's got Richie," she all but whispered.

"Damn it," Duncan exclaimed as the colour left his face. He looked furious as if he wanted to charge after Klossen himself, but knew it was pointless. Buffy was still staring at the letter and Methos moved closer to her to lend her his support.

"He says that killing hasn't worked so far, so he has decided to try kidnapping instead. He wants to meet me tomorrow night at Stanfield Park." She sighed and shot Duncan a sorrowful look. "Or he'll kill Richie."

"Why tomorrow night?" Joe asked, breaking the silence that followed. "Why not now? Tonight? I mean, you were going to go out there and look for him."

"I was," she agreed. "But he doesn't know that. For all he knows we are still hiding from him."

"Looking for Klossen won't work tonight." Methos added quietly. "He'll want to torture Richie tonight. He'll stay in his hideout to do that."

"So he's bait then." Duncan said bitterly.

"Bait," Buffy felt herself mummer, seemingly lost in her own world. "Just like Jessie."

It all suddenly felt so familiar. The situation, these people. She hadn't known Richie very well, just as she hadn't known Jessie very well. Both were young, vibrant and had the potential to be her friends, if only she could save them. She had failed where Jessie was concerned. Even now, the gang didn't talk about him much around her. She didn't think they blamed her or anything, but she knew they didn't feel comfortable sharing their grief over the loss. She hadn't known him well enough to mourn for him. She would not let the same thing happen to Richie.

"Jessie?" Methos was looking at her, obviously worried. She smiled and attempted to recover herself.

"One of the many I couldn't save." She looked at Duncan then clarified herself. "Don't worry, I am not going to let anything happen to Richie. This jerk is gonna pay."

"Then we have one night." Duncan spoke quietly. "One night for you to train some more and for you to make sure that you defeat him. One night to get ready to save him."

"One night," she agreed, meeting his eyes and finally reaching an understanding with the highlander. "We should get to work."

"Again!" Duncan shouted at her, thrusting the sword at her with deadly force. Buffy parried and managed to avoid a blow just in time. Sweat poured off her brow as she moved back into position and attempted to mount an attack on the highlander. There was a determination in the Scot's eyes that she had never seen before. He was playing for keeps right now, and Buffy knew why. He had to make sure that Richie's life was trusted to someone who wouldn't fail him. It was personal for Duncan now and he likely hated that he couldn't fight Klossen himself.  
Her attack failed and resulted in Duncan's blade nicking her shoulder. Regrouping, she attacked once more and ended up taking a sharp blow to the side of the head. Caught off guard, she tumbled to the ground and watched as Duncan's sword came at her, right towards her eyes.

Right toward the eyes.

It was so familiar.

No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away and what have you got?

Those words, played through her head as the sword came at her, over and over. And then it clicked.

What have you got?

No weapons.

No friends.

No hope.

It was like being in the mansion all over again. Only this time it wasn't Duncan's sword, it was Angelus'.

Time seemed to slow down. She found herself catching the sword between her hands just as she had done once before. It was about to hit her face once again. There was no hesitation. She knew exactly what do to. Thrusting it up into her assailants face, she leaping to her feet with her sword, rejuvenated by the blow and attacking him with new vigor.

Fury burned in her eyes, pure unadulterated hatred. She saw him before her. She saw Angelus. And she wanted him dead. The sword no longer frightened her. It was an instrument of death to be sure, but this time she was in control of who died. Angelus was not Angel. She had no other option and he had deserved to die then as much as he deserved it now.

She was protecting her friends. She was protecting Willow, Giles, Xander, Oz, Cordelia and everyone else who relied on her to keep the world from ending. She was saving their lives. She was getting her vengeance for Jenny's death.

It was suddenly all right. The sword in her hand had ceased to be a burden, but rather a powerful weapon.

It was about the power.

Power that she held.

The ability to control life and death.

She had stopped Angelus. She had killed him and saved the world. Angel might have gone to hell, but Angelus had also been defeated. Some good had been done, however small.

And in knowing that, she was free.

She could fight.

And just as quickly as he had came, Angelus' face disappeared from her view and was replaced by a very exhausted, defeated Duncan MacLeod, staring at the tip of her sword which she held at his neck in a mixture of pride and slight fear.

"You can put that down now Buffy, unless you intend to finish it."

"I…" she looked at the sword, realizing now that it no longer carried the weight of what she had done. She didn't drop it as she had done in times previous. She merely stared at it in shock and awe.

"Buffy?" Methos took a tentative step forward, causing her to finally look his way. She grinned from ear to ear.

"It's gone!" She told him. This time she did drop the sword as she hugged him tightly. "I can wield it, did you see that? I can fight!"

"I saw." Methos said quietly, smiling with obvious pride. She had found her strength and hadn't needed him for it. He had been right.

"It's still there," she amended, realizing she was talking a mile a minute about something only Methos could understand. "I mean, I'll always miss….but the guilt, it's gone! The sword, I can…he's gone, and I love him, but I'm not afraid. I'll always love him, but I can do it now, I can be the slayer."

"I know." He told her simply. "I always knew."

"Am I missing something?" Duncan looked at them curiously, hating to be left out in the cold.

"No," Buffy assured him. "You're not missing anything. I'm ready to fight Klossen that's all. I will never be more ready."


	35. Showdown!

The park was dark and noticeably empty. Buffy shivered, though the night was far from cold. She reached out with her immortal sense, feeling, trying to see if Klossen was in the vicinity, but she could feel nothing. She glanced out of the corner of her eye towards Methos who walked softly beside her, to see if he might be feeling anything, but if he was, he showed no sign of it.

She stopped next to the swing set, and blew a bit of hair from her eyes, scanning the park once more, but finding nothing.

"Are we early?" She checked her watch as she spoke. Methos shook his head.

"We're on time. He means to make you wait. He'll be here."

He seemed calmer now, moreso than he had been throughout the entire situation. She wondered if the calm came from the confidence he had in her, or the certain knowledge that one way or another it would be over tonight. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

"You'd better hide somewhere then." She told him, whispering though they were the only ones in the park. "If he senses you, he'll know our plan and he might kill Richie anyway."

Methos nodded and started to leave. She grabbed his arm to stop him before he could.

"Do you have your sword?"

He nodded, still as ice.

"Don't make me use it." He smiled softly. "Good luck."

"I don't need it," she replied feeling as confident as she sounded. He seemed relieved by that. "I'm going to win."

He tipped his head slightly once more and then disappeared into the shadows, a safe distance away. Buffy turned to glance in the direction that Klossen would be approaching from and closed her eyes, knowing there was no way Klossen could sneak up on her. She would know he was coming long before she saw him. She would know it. And she was ready.

She reached down and fingered her sword, feeling comfort come from the weapon when once all she felt was fear and self loathing.

Angel's presence was gone. Not her love for him, as that would never leave her, but the guilt and pain associated with what she had done. She had done what she had to do and thinking back on it, she would do it again. She could do it again. Methos had been right, she was strong enough.

And if she were strong enough to do that, then killing someone like Klossen had to be easier.

"Thank you Angel," she whispered softly as the immortal buzz took hold of her senses. She opened her eyes just in time to see Klossen approaching in the distance. Grimly she clutched her sword and readied herself.

"You came," was all he said as soon as she was within earshot. She nodded.

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"I've been killing people for months now trying to get you to face me," he sneered. "I thought you just didn't care. What kind of slayer doesn't care about innocent people dying?"

"I care far more for innocent lives, than a psycho like you ever will," she shot back, unable to restrain the anger she felt course through her. She instantly admonished herself. She mustn't let him provoke her. She must remain calm and focused. It was the only way she would be able to defeat him. She looked around and suddenly realized it was just the two of them in the park. "Where's Richie?"

"Ahh, yes, the only one I didn't kill." Klossen smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. "How ironic that it's he who draws you to me, and not the others I've murdered to get your attention? He's right behind me slayer. He was having trouble keeping up. It's been a hard day."

"You tortured him didn't you?" It was posed as a question but was not one. Klossen smiled even wider.

"Nothing he couldn't handle. He's immortal remember?"

Buffy was about to respond, when she felt Richie's presence and saw him approaching slowly, limping in the distance.

"Richie!" She called out and rushed towards him, helping him back to where Klossen stood, eminently amused by the entire situation.

"Buffy…" Richie groaned softly as she sat him down against a tree. There were no visible wounds and she assumed that any that had been there had most likely healed, and yet she had a feeling that despite that, there was only so much an immortal could take without some residual pain even after the wounds had healed. It seemed she'd been right. Richie was considerably weak, but he was alive. She let out a sigh of relief for that small mercy.

"Are you OK?" She asked him.

"I'll be fine." Richie assured her. He gave her a weak smile. "That monster was right about one thing…I'll heal."

"I'm going to kill him." She said it to reassure him, but her tone was almost conversational as if she were talking about the day's weather. That seemed to do the trick and he smiled a little more stronger now.

"I sure as hell hope so."

"Are we done with the touching moment?" Klossen broke in, sounding bored. "Did you come here to fight or to whimper?"

Buffy turned to him and smirked.

"Only a total moron is that eager to fight me." She stated. Klossen seemed slightly taken aback by her cockiness. And why shouldn't he be? She thought to herself. The last time we met didn't exactly showcase my talent as a warrior. This will work to my advantage if he thinks I'm weak and likely to crumble.

"Your confidence amuses me." Klossen said with a slight laugh.

"It amused the vampire Angelus too," she said grimly. "Until I killed him and sent him to hell that is."

She watched as Klossen's smile faltered as the name obviously struck a chord in his memory. Most vampires knew of Angelus and his power. It was a very good name to drop in order to intimidate. Once Buffy would have found it painful, now it was a source of strength.

"I'm no mere vampire." Klossen boasted. "I'm stronger, faster, better. I will be the last. Make no mistake slayer we will fight and I will win. You've gotten away too many times already."

"You talk like a bad horror movie." She replied, almost bored with the pre-fight banter. Why was it these guys always felt the need to trade threats first? "Can't we just get this over with?"

"You're that eager to die?" Klossen questioned with clear amusement.

"Now you're over confident," she pointed out. "And a looney toon to boot."

"We'll see slayer." Klossen growled. He raised his sword and took a readied stance. "Shall we see who is the overconfident one?"

"Fine with me." She raised her sword in answer to his, and the fight was joined.

He was stronger than she was, that much she had known before coming out there. But what she lacked in strength she made up for in skill. Duncan and Methos had trained her well.

She kept her focus as he pressed the attack, disliking that she was on the defensive rather than the offensive, but refusing to act rashly. She defended herself, patiently waiting for her opening.

Soon, she began to see the pattern in his attack. He was relying solely on his strength to defeat her, using the same attack process over and over. She began to figure it out, and used the pattern to her advantage. His eyes widened in surprise as he lunged and then lunged again, failing both times to catch actual flesh in the attack.

"You think you're clever slayer?" He growled. "You'll tire eventually. All I have to do is keep this up."

She smiled this time, her confidence growing as he revealed his weakness over and over.

"You do know what the definition of insanity is don't you?" She asked him as she parried the same lunge he'd been using for the entirety of the fight. He grunted, but didn't answer. "Performing the same action over and over again, expecting different results. Methinks you might be in for a rude awakening buddy. You're cuckoo for coco puffs!"

She sidestepped another attack and ducked under his sword to try to approach from behind. She was met with his sword at the last second however, and thrown back slightly when he forced her away.

"Nice try," he growled as he ran at her. He was getting sloppier. Her avoidance was making him angry. She could do this. She could keep him on the run.

Their swords met again, and her arm nearly buckled under the force of it. She gritted her teeth and met the blow, never leaving his gaze as she did so. Her insistence on looking him in the eye unnerved him. She could tell.

He forced her back again and this time she almost stumbled over. He laughed.

"Think it's funny do you?" She retorted. "You're getting lazier."

"I can beat you with one hand behind my back." He boasted. "I'm just toying with you."

Briefly she wondered if he were right, but when he went to attack once more, he did so the same way, letting her know he was bluffing. He was stronger, but sheer force would not do it. She had thought that way at first and Duncan had defeated her because of it. Only skill would win this fight and she had that thanks to him in spades.

"You think so do you?" She executed a move he never saw coming and managed to slash him in the ribs. He yelled out in surprise and jumped back. The wound was already starting to close up, but it had done the trick. He now knew she had more up her sleeve than he originally thought.

"You think that means something?" He taunted. "My wound is healed already slayer, but you do not have that talent. You can sense me, but that's all you can do. You couldn't even imagine the power I have."

"Or the bad breath, but that doesn't keep you from talking." She shot back with a grin. He charged her and she braced herself for the attack. She stepped backwards hoping to shoulder some of the blow, when her foot caught accidentally on a twig and she found herself hitting the ground just as he raised the blade up and began to bring it down towards her head.

She ducked to roll out of the way, but the sword caught her just as she did so, slicing into her shoulder and causing her to cry out with pain as the blood began to flow. She had gotten too confident and was paying the price.

"Not laughing now are you slayer?" Klossen sneered, as he advanced towards her. She reached for her sword, still on the ground and thrust with it, blindly upwards at it. She hit only air and had to roll over once more as he stabbed the ground, trying to get her. She was beginning to become a bit more nervous. Her shoulder throbbed with pain now making it hard for her to wield the weapon with as much force as before. He was right. She was tiring.

His attacks may be monotonous and without finesse, but he was showing no signs of slowing down and she was wounded and rapidly wearing out.

Scrambling to her feet, she charged him this time, hoping that an offensive attack would put him off guard and create an opportunity for her to finish this, but he met her attacks with equal vigor. Her arm felt like it was about to drop off, but she grit her teeth and pressed on, refusing to give in.

"You like that slayer? You like to feel your own life's blood leaving you?" He chuckled and swung again. She met the sword and cringed as pain shot through her. "You think you're doing well, but it's only a matter of time. Don't bleed too much, I can't wait to drink you dry."

"Who writes your dialogue?" She growled as she lunged at him, missing his heart by only a fraction of a centimeter. "Seriously! You sound like a cheap B movie."

"And you sound scared." He said as he managed to graze her other shoulder. "I'm getting closer aren't I?"

Buffy bit her lip and tried to ignore the fact that he was right. That he was winning.

You're stronger than this she heard Methos telling her from inside. You can do this. I believe in you.

She pressed on harder, her attacks stronger, more assured. She drove him back a little.

Use his strength as a weakness, she remembered Duncan saying. Your slayer abilities won't save you.

She took another step forward, focusing more on tricks with her sword than the power in her thrust. She drove him back a little bit more.

And more.

And more.

And more until she saw the worry, the fear in his eyes. The tables were turning. She could feel the others, cheering her on from within. Duncan's voice, Richie's voice, Joe's voice, Methos' voice. All were with her. All believed in her.

Angel's voice.

She could hear him. He was there.

She swung her sword.

Close your eyes.

At first she thought it was she that was going crazy. She could almost swear she heard him right beside her, whispering in her ear.

Close your eyes.

It was his voice. The same words she had used to destroy him, were returning to help her. He was with her. He was helping her.

Close your eyes.

Raising her sword up one final time, she took the advice and brought it down, the blackness her only comfort.

The sword hit flesh, driving Klossen to his knees. She did not open her eyes however, but rather took the brief window of opportunity and sliced her sword to where she thought his head was located. It took a lot of strength, but she felt it go through, taking his head.

She opened her eyes, just as the head fell to the ground, the look on his face still too shocked to believe what had just happened.

I love you.

It was the last thing that registered in her mind before the quickening came.

She had never felt pain so acutely before in her entire life. It consumed her. It became her. The lightning tore through her like she was paper. It was agony. It was sheer torture. It was pleasure. Orgasmic almost.  
She knew she was screaming, but she didn't care. She couldn't hear it. Her mouth was open and yet it felt as if no sound was coming through.

The sky crackled and brought down more lightning.

Klossen's memories, his personality, his life, flashed before her. She saw it all. She lived it all, she felt it all.

His power.

The sheer force of his strength, of all he could have accomplished with the three essences finally merged, the way they were merging now.

Buffy felt her soul begin to reject the feelings. She grit her teeth.

She wanted to scream no! There was now way this would defeat her. Not now. Not after all this. The power would not overtake her. She could fight it. She'd fought this far.

Suppress it. That's what Methos had said.

But it was so very tempting. The idea that she would never have to worry about slaying or dying young again. She could be who she wanted to be, live as the child she still was…or rule if she chose.

Infinite power.

She would be immortal. She could be the last. The prize could be hers.

All it would cost was her soul. The power welled up within her. Was it worth it? Was she willing to take it?

It was so very tempting.

Suppress it.

She could still here Methos' voice, urging her, telling her how to defeat this part. She had to stay true to herself. She had to do this. She would not become a danger. She would not hurt her friends.

She would not become Angelus.

And yet despite this resolve it became more and more tempting. It promised freedom and things she could only begin to imagine could be possible.

The prize…

There can be only one.

Why not her?

Why not?

Was it worth it?

Methos had never seen a quickening so intense. After he saw her take Klossen's head he had rushed to where Richie had sat, sword at the ready along with the tranquilizer gun that Joe had managed to procure and leave behind the tree. He was ready.  
The moment the shaking and the tremors subsided, he looked to Richie, disliking the next part with a vengeance.

Aiming the gun, he shot it towards her trembling, half unconscious form that lay on the grass, still reeling from the quickening.

"Did you get her?" Richie hadn't seen whether or not the arrow hit its target.

"I did." Methos replied grimly.

"Is she…" He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

"I don't know." Methos admitted. He got up and headed towards Buffy now, leaning down and touching her hair softly as he did so. "We'll know when she wakes up…I think. Come on, help me carry her back to my place."

Richie stood up and took hold of her legs while Methos proceeded to grab her arms. Together they gently lifted her and began to walk towards his car.

"How will you find out if it's really her?" Richie was wondering. "What will you do to find out?"

Methos pondered that for a moment as he stared, almost reverently at the sleeping face he carried. And then suddenly it came to him and he knew how he would find out if she were evil or not.

"Something…" he murmured to Richie, formulating the plan in his own brain first before he considered it for others. "Something she won't like. If it is her….well I'll know."  
And that was all he said.


	36. Bondage Fun Redux

The first thing Buffy felt when she regained consciousness, were the chains that held her down to Methos' bed. She futilely attempted to break them, but realized that her strength, even her slayer strength had not yet returned to her. She looked around, but didn't see Methos anywhere, nor feel his immortal presence. She frowned.

Should I even be struggling? She wondered inwardly. What if I'm evil? I don't feel evil…

She puzzled for a moment, wondering whether she would actually know it if she were evil. She thought about Giles, Willow, Xander and the others. She thought about Angel and Methos, Joe, Duncan and Richie and realized that she wasn't, and couldn't be evil.

I love them too much, she thought as she tugged once more on her restraints. She sighed, wondering how she would be able to convince Methos of her non-evilness when she herself had questioned it.

And then she thought about what it would be like to finally go home. It was the deal she had made with Methos for if she beat Klossen and assuming that she could convince him to believe she was herself. She had been fairly certain she could beat Klossen, but the idea that she could beat the quickening had been up in the air and thus she could allow herself not to think about the consequences of going home just yet. She had told herself that she would think about it only if it became an issue, and now it seemed that she had all the time in the world to think about it, lying there tied to Methos' bed. Again.

She sighed as she suddenly felt the immortal buzz hit her, and heard the door close in the living room. Methos was obviously back.

"One thing I won't miss," she muttered as she tugged once more at the chains that bound her, "is waking up chained to this bed."

"Oh you're awake!" Methos sounded surprised as he entered the room. Buffy wondered if she actually detected a small note of fear in his eyes, or if that was just her mind playing tricks on her. She nodded.

"Yea….is that OK?" She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but some part of her knew he was trying to find signs of an evil Buffy. It was odd to think that he was looking at her now, trying to determine whether or not to kill her. "Is that a bad sign? Do I have like a…time limit or something?"

A small part of her actually feared him now, feared what she had-before with all confidence-asked him to do. She hadn't thought she might actually be able to beat the power of the quickening. It was so much easier contemplating Methos defeating her evil self than it was to think that he might kill her anyway if she couldn't convince him.

"How do you feel?" Methos' face was impassive and his voice light but she could tell by the intent gaze he was giving her that his thoughts were anything but casual. He's sizing me up! She thought with a slight start.

"I don't feel evil if that's what you're asking." She felt bad for sounding defensive, but she couldn't help herself. To know that the one person she had trusted implicitly since she got here was now calmly contemplating killing her rattled her more than she cared to admit. And it no longer mattered that she had chosen him for that very reason, or that she had asked him to. All she wanted was for him to look at her without the calculating gaze. She wanted to see him smile, hear the warmth in his tone, watch him slouch down into his chair with a beer in hand in a way that was totally Methos. "I do feel different though…"

She instantly regretted the comment however, when she saw the look of worry pass across his features. He's afraid of me, she thought sadly. She hated that feeling.

"Strong enough to break those chains?" He was frowning now, looking as if he wanted to tighten her restraints, but too fearful to get too close. She hated this. She hated the entire situation. She was torn between anger that he would be so cautious, gratefulness that he had taken her request so seriously and downright fear that he might actually kill her.

"Not yet," she said, hoping she sounded reassuring, rather than angry. "Don't look so worried, but…soon."

"Would you like something to drink?" Methos sat down, hoping that she couldn't sense the fear or uncertainty in his eyes. She seemed so much like Buffy, the Buffy he had grown to care about so very deeply. But it could be a trick. She could be playing on the emotions that he had so carelessly shown to her in order to gain his sympathies.

You were stupid, the voice in his head whispered. You let her get close and now she knows how to manipulate you.

She would never forgive him if he made the wrong decision and loosed her evil self on the population. And he would never forgive himself if he acted too rashly and killed her when she had actually managed to stay true to herself. He had an idea of how to figure out if it was really her or not, but was reluctant to try it. He knew how she would react and was stupid enough to want to protect his own heart from it.

People could die if you don't…she could die. He silenced the annoying voice and smiled what he hoped would be a neutral smile as he waited to see if she did indeed want him to get her something to drink.

"No, I'm good," she all but mumbled. He hated the look of hurt he could see on her face. He hated doing this to her…treating her like an enemy. After all she had done, after all she had gone through, she deserved better. And yet, this was the only way to be sure. She was still looking at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. "Why…why won't you look at me?"

He hung his head, ashamed that he had to behave this way.

"It's probably not a good idea." He finally told her after a long, uncomfortable pause. "If I did and assumed that you were you, and then I was wrong…"

"You don't trust me." This time she couldn't keep the hurt and anger out of her tone. She knew it was wrong, that she was over reacting and that he was only doing what she had asked, and yet she couldn't help it. He couldn't even look at her and it was tearing her apart.

"I don't trust myself," Methos admitted, his voice almost a whisper. She was shocked at the emotion in his voice. The idea that his sympathies might get in the way had occurred to her, but now she wondered to what extent they would interfere. How deeply did he really care for her? "Besides, you asked me not to."

She couldn't argue that. He was doing nothing wrong. She sat there for a moment, helpless to answer, knowing anything she said could be taken as her being indeed evil and trying to 'get out of it'. She felt helpless and she hated it.

"I beat it Methos," she finally told him her voice calm and quiet. "I did. I'm me. I don't know how to convince you of that, but it's true."

"I want to believe you," Methos confessed. He looked up only for a moment, but even in that, she glimpsed a fraction of the torture that swam in his eyes. "More than anything."

"Then why can't you?" She desperately wanted to be that easy. Like in the fairy tales when all the prince had to do was slip the glass slipper on Cinderella's foot to know it was her all along. She wanted it to be as easy as Methos looking into her eyes and knowing without any doubt that she was still here, and not evil. She wanted it so badly it hurt.

"Let me ask you this," Methos was speaking calmly, rationally now, trying desperately to ignore the whirlwind of emotions he experienced upon seeing the troubled look in her beautiful eyes. "If you were lying to me right now….if this were a trick, would you-the real you-expect me to just believe you without proof? Would you want me to release you based on a few convincing words and looks?"

"No," Buffy answered honestly, realizing that she meant at least that much. "I'd want you to be sure. But I know that! That means I have to be me, right? I mean, if I'm willing to admit that…"

"Maybe," Methos acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. He suddenly had the absurd feeling of being in a Monty Python film, this conversation was getting so ridiculous. "Except that evil you would know that good you would say that and would likely say what you just said right now to make me think you were good."

"What are you, the Riddler?" She exclaimed in exasperation. Methos almost smiled.

"I want to be sure." His voice was soft, but firm. He would not let her down, however much it hurt.

"How can I…" her voice sounded small, like that of a frightened child. He longed to comfort her, but kept his strength about him. "How can I convince you then? What can I do?"

"Nothing," he admitted, knowing for sure now the inevitability of his plan. He had to do what he had originally intended. There was no other way. "You can't. I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can say that I can trust."

"Then…how can we fix this?" She sounded even more frightened now…on the verge of panic. It might be a trick he told himself. "Methos, please I don't want to die. You can believe that, if nothing else."

She was almost begging now, but she couldn't help it. He truly meant to kill her if she couldn't convince him and then claimed there was nothing she could say or do to do so. She did not want to die for nothing, not after all she had done. She wanted to go home. She hadn't realized it until now, just how desperately. She had to stay alive. She had to!

"I have a plan," Methos finally said with a sigh that sounded almost regretful. What does he have in mind? "But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Why should I, when you can't trust me?" It was supposed to be a biting retort, but it came out instead almost a croak. She felt a lump in her throat and resisted the urge to cry.

"With all due respect, I'm not the one who might be evil." Methos paused after saying that and then added, "this time anyway."

"What do I do?" She drew a shuddering breath and steeled herself for whatever he might request. He simply smiled sadly.

"Just close your eyes." He looked at her intently. "Can you do that?"

It had come full circle, she realized. Karma and all that. She had asked the very same thing of Angel and committed the ultimate betrayal and yet it had been him that had saved her fighting Klossen, she was sure of it. It made no logical sense-Angel was dead and yet, she had felt him, sensed him. He had told her what to do and it had saved her. Did she trust Methos as much as Angel? Or was he too much like herself? More importantly, did she have a choice?

The answer to the latter part, was no. She closed her eyes and waited.

Methos hesitated, even as she closed her eyes and then drew on his courage. Moving close to her on the bed, he took her small hand in his. He wasn't sure how to say this. He wasn't sure how to admit it to himself, let alone her. And regardless of her reaction he would be the one that would be hurt from it. It was a no-win situation. Methos hated those. He usually went with the winner.

"Buffy I…" he paused, trying to think of the best way to say it. When he realized there was no best way, he plunged ahead. "I think I'm falling for you. I might…I might love you. I didn't mean to. God knows it's the last thing I need, but…well there it is. Don't say anything. Don't answer me, just…let me…"

He leaned in, and tentatively pressed his lips to hers. The kiss sent shocks of electricity through him left over from the quickening, but what was even more shocking was the emotion that coursed through him as she opened her lips to his and accepted his kiss.

She couldn't think. She couldn't speak, even if she wanted to. His voice had been husky and sincere. His soft, welsh accent had deepened as he spoke of his feelings causing her heart to race with fear and something else she couldn't define. And then he kissed her.

Buffy's mind was racing as she felt Methos' lips touch hers with velvet softness. Too shocked to react, she let her body do the talking and allowed him to kiss her. He was amazing with his lips, with the softness of his tongue. If this was what five thousand years has taught him about kissing think of what…

Close your eyes…

"No!" She didn't even remember yelling it, but she must have because before she knew it, she had wrenched away from him as much as the restraints would allow and found herself head butting him as she had no free hands to slap him.

He reeled backwards clutching his forehead in pain. Buffy couldn't believe what she had done. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but the image of Angel had come unbidden to her mind even as her pulse raced from kissing another man and she hadn't been able to control her reaction.

"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed, terrified that her violent action would cause him to either think she hated him, or worse that she was evil. "I didn't mean to…I mean, you kissed me and I freaked. Not because of you…I mean, the kiss…it was….well it wasn't icky. I mean, it really wasn't icky, but it wasn't…y'know…him and I know I'm not all with the guilt anymore, but I still love him and I can't kiss anybody else, no matter how sexy and non-icky they are or how much I trust them. And I do trust you Methos, and care about you so I don't want to hurt you, or make you think that I'm evil cause I'm not, I swear I'm just…"

"Buffy…"

"…afraid that I hurt you, well I did physically but I mean…"

"Buffy…"

"…mentally, cause then you might think I'm bad, or worse hate me, and I really don't want you to hate me cause…"

"Buffy…"

"…I'm your friend and I…"

"Buffy!"

She blinked at the force in his tone.

"What?"

"Calm down." He was smiling now, which Buffy took as a good sign. She relaxed slightly and watched him rub his head once more, likely more out of reflex than any residual pain. She realized belatedly that hers was hurting quite a bit as well, and allowed herself a wince. "It's OK. I know. I mean, I understand. I trust you."

With those simple words, he started to undo her restraints.

"What?" She couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. Had he lied to her? Had this all been some weird trick? Part of her was disappointed to think it was.

Methos smiled patiently. He wouldn't let her know just how relieved and hurt he was by her reaction at the same time. He was grateful for it beyond words, and knew that it was for the best, and yet his heart refused to let the disappointment and ache leave him. He shook it off and spoke with what he hoped was a casual tone.

"Only you-the real you-would have reacted that way." He finished undoing the final restraint and sat back with a sigh. "If you were lying I think you would have gone along with it in the hopes of getting released. I knew you weren't ready for it Buffy. I knew. And I knew you would be honest if you weren't."

"So…what you said….you were lying? This was all an attempt to see if I was still me?" She didn't mean to sound hurt. She didn't mean to sound disappointed. She didn't want Methos in love with her. It was too complicated that way, especially since she was going home. And yet there was a small part of her that knew that whatever she and Methos had was more than friendship.

"I…" Methos paused, not wanting to lie to her, but not wanting to burden her with the truth. "I don't want to answer that OK? Let's just leave it. I understand how you feel. I'm glad I was right. I am glad you reacted the way you did…more glad than you know."

Buffy didn't know how to respond to that. Methos hadn't said he actually loved her, but neither had he said he didn't. She searched herself, and realized that she was happy with the non-answer. Her own feelings were too alien to her at the moment to deal with that on top of everything and yet the possibility gave her cause to smile. Maybe someday…

"So now what?" She smirked as she rubbed her wrists to get the feeling to return to them. "Is this the happily-ever-after?"

"I don't know." Methos said gently. "That's up to you. You remember your promise?"

"Yea," she sighed heavily. "I beat the bad guy, I go home. That was the deal."

"I will miss you Buffy." He didn't try to hide the emotion in his voice that time.

"Yea, me too." She sat up, feeling suddenly shaky in a way that caught her off guard. "Hey Methos…you still have that beer in the fridge? I think maybe I do want a drink."

"What about the giant demon snake?" He grinned his old grin and found her answering back with one. His heart lightened.

"I'll take my chances."


	37. Just Another Night In Front of the Boob Tube

Buffy packed slowly wishing to draw out her return to Sunnydale as long as possible. Methos knew what she was doing, but said nothing, seemingly content in the fact that she was holding true to her word.

With every bag she packed however, her nervousness grew. It was September already and school had already started again. Buffy knew that going back would mean attempting to get back into either Sunnydale high, or some other arrangement. The idea of facing Snyder, along with her friends and the senior class terrified her.

She had changed so much over the summer, because of Angel, because of Methos. She wasn't sure she could ever truly explain it to them, or if they could ever really understand. She missed them desperately and part of her wished she could stay here with Methos and Joe and the others. They offered a safety that Sunnydale never could.

It's why I have to go back, she reminded herself. Safety and me never did go together.

She sighed, wondering where Methos had gotten to. She had finally finished packing all her stuff, but was hoping he wouldn't notice that for a little while. She wanted to say good-bye to the others more fully. They had seen her once since she defeated Klossen to say congratulations but then had been suspiciously absent for the next few days.

Even Methos had been fairly distant towards her, which upset her slightly. She would be leaving fairly soon and she had wanted some more time with him. Part of her wondered if it had been the kiss between them that caused him to leave every morning and return late in the evening. She hoped not. They had grown so close. She would hate to think that her salvation would be what in the end pushed them apart.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the familiarity of Methos' immortal buzz and the sound of the door closing. Buffy felt her pulse quicken as she realized Methos was back.

"You're all packed?" He sounded slightly disappointed by that as he entered the room and eyed her suitcase.

"Almost," she told him. "I just need to pack some toiletries and whatnot. When did you want me to go?"

"Buffy, I'm not trying to get rid of you." Methos' voice was soft and gentle. She looked into his face and saw genuine worry there.

"I didn't….I mean, I just…." she trailed off, unable to voice what she was thinking. "I promised I would leave. And I don't want to make you think that I'm not committed or anything so if you want me to go now…I'm ready."

"This may come as a shock to you Buffy," Methos said with a small smile. "But I really don't want you to leave. I think you have to leave. But I don't want you to."

"So…when?"

"Whenever you feel most comfortable." He replied firmly. "I know I made you promise to go, but if this is something that might take more time I'm willing to give it that. I…I can't say I'm all that eager for this apartment to be so empty again."

Methos looked away from her gaze, silently admonishing himself for his words. He should have been telling her to leave as soon as possible. Any more time spent would only make it harder on him when she left and yet, he couldn't force himself to kick the young girl out. She still seemed so vulnerable and even though he knew she was anything but, he was a sucker for it anyway. Duncan would get a kick out of this if he only knew…he thought ironically. Usually he's the one done in by the doe-eyes of a woman.

He looked back to her and smiled casually, hiding his thoughts from her as only a man of his age and experience could.

She seemed uncertain about his leniency regarding their deal, but relaxed slightly anyway.

"Thanks Methos, I appreciate it, but I really do think I should go as soon as possible." She sighed. "I have to face them all at some point and the sooner it happens, the better. The more I delay this….well, it's hard enough anticipating them hating me as it is."

"Well you can't leave tonight." Methos said firmly. A strange twinkle played in his eyes. "And tomorrow is a no-no either. So how 'bout the day after that?"

"Tomorrow?" She echoed, confused. "What's tomorrow?"

"A surprise." Methos replied conspiratorially. "You'll see tomorrow night. Day after tomorrow then?"

"Yea," she replied, her voice hoarse for some reason. "Sounds like a plan."

"It does," Methos agreed, though in his heart he felt a great sadness settle within him.

Methos drove Buffy to Joe's bar the next night in silence. The surprise he had mentioned was a hastily thrown together good-bye party. The others had been curious as to why Buffy would have to leave, but did not question it any further than Methos would allow.  
Still, they wanted to send her off with their love and their well wishes, so Methos had agreed to a party and agreed to allow Duncan to put it together. Joe had offered to get the band together to play as well.

It was incredibly heart warming to see that the others would miss her almost as much as he would. He hoped that Buffy would see it the same way Methos had-that she had made herself a part of the group that couldn't be denied.

When they pulled into the parking lot, she looked at him quizzically.

"The place looks closed." She frowned with disappointment. She had hoped that Methos' 'surprise' would be a trip to Joe's to say good-bye to the others, but found her heart drop as she noticed the lights out and the place shut down. Nobody seemed to be in there.

"Yea, I know I just have to get a few things." Methos replied as he exited the car. "You want to come in with me?"

She shrugged, feeling she had no other choice and followed Methos as he led the way to the inside of the bar.

It was like one of those after school specials, she remembered thinking, because the moment she turned the light on, Joe, Duncan and Richie all jumped out from behind various tables and the bar, and yelled "surprise!"

She grinned as she looked around to see various balloons and streamers as well as a banner that said 'good-bye Buffy, we'll miss you' in bold letters. She looked over to Methos who was smiling broadly and silently admonished herself for not catching on to the whole party in the first place.

"You like?" He whispered in her ear. She threw her arms around him and impulsively hugged him.

"It's great Methos, thank you!"  
"Don't thank me!" He said, throwing his hands to the air in a mock gesture of surrender. "Thank Duncan. He put the whole thing together. I was just the help."

"When Methos told us you were leaving, I had to do something." Duncan told her as he stepped over to where they were standing. "You've done a lot for us. And we may have clashed but…"

"Thank you Duncan," she said warmly embracing the highlander and hugging him until she felt him choke slightly. She released him and smiled, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you all of you. You made me feel welcome when I thought I never would be again. You don't know what that means to me."

"You saved my ass from a crazy immortal." Richie told her, his eyes dancing with humour. "You don't know what that means to me…or my head."

Buffy grinned and hit him lightly in the shoulder.

"Any time." She promised him. Richie smiled back.

"Anybody for some music?" Joe was asking as he opened the door to the back room and ushered his band on stage. Buffy took Methos' hand and led him over to a table to watch. They were followed by Richie and Duncan who exchanged meaningful looks that Buffy couldn't decipher.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur for both Buffy and Methos. She had not felt this light hearted in a good long while and it was a much needed relief considering what she would be facing the next day.

Methos seemed fairly happy as well, his earlier distance replaced by warmth and laughter. She liked him like this. She liked all of them like this. She was able to watch the banter between them and not long for a group of her own. She had one. She was going home to them. And yet, there was no question that she belonged to this group as well. These people had somehow become a part of her that she could not separate from.

She would miss Joe's fatherly demeanour. His gruff affection had become something that she had learned to lean on, to depend on.

She would miss Richie's goofiness. His maturity as an immortal dampened by his extreme enthusiasm for life. He was an incorrigible flirt and Buffy was now beginning to find comfort, even amusement in flirting with him.

She would even miss Duncan. She knew now why his attitude had clashed so much with hers. He was too much like Angel. But unlike Angle, his morals were too refined for her to ever live up to his standards. Still, she knew that he was capable of getting past that, of caring for her and for Methos despite their differences. And she would miss him.

Methos…well he was a given. She didn't know if he was even aware of how much she cared for him, or how much he cared for her. Now was not the time to ask however, so she kept silent and enjoyed the evening for what it was…a night out with her friends.

Methos watched the slayer's smile light up the room over and over that night but found it difficult to be saddened by the fact that it would not do so again. She was too infectiously happy for him to be brought down.

He drank deeply and laughed loudly enjoying everything the night had to offer.

And then he came back to reality the moment Joe suggested they call it a night.

"Buffy has an early bus ride tomorrow morning, am I correct?"

"Yea, kind of." She replied, looking down at the floor. "Look, I want you guys to know that I might be leaving, but I really really will miss you. You have no idea how much you have meant to me…all of you."

"We're gonna miss you too kid." Joe told her with a warm smile. "You make sure you call when you get back and let me know you got there OK?"

"Yea, no problem." She promised. "If you want…I can give my watcher-Giles your number, so that you can keep in touch. You're knowledge might be helpful later on."

"I'd like that." Joe replied. She hugged him quickly before emotion got the better of her and looked over to Richie.

"I'll miss you Rich," she whispered as she hugged him tight.

"Me too," he said. Then, shyly, "you ever need a date on a Saturday night, don't hesitate to call me up OK?"

"Sure, anytime." She replied, but knew that he wasn't serious. The words might have been flirtatious, but the look in his eyes said firmly and resolutely, friend. Buffy liked that.

"Thank you." Duncan was saying to her. "For saving Richie….for fighting Klossen. Slayers are remarkable people and I feel honored to have met you."

"Same to you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

"Mac," he corrected softly.

"Mac," she echoed. She embraced him once more and then allowed Methos to take her by the hand and lead her out to the parking lot. The night was cool and the air felt fresh, in a way that only fall can. Buffy breathed in deep, and exhaled, allowing the tears she had been withholding to come with it.

"What's wrong?" Methos asked, concern in his eyes. She shook her head, attempting to reassure him.

"I don't know." She finally said after a moment or two of crying. "I…I guess I'm just sad that I've met all of you and have to leave. You're like….well, like family. Like the gang is to me at home. I don't know if I'll even be as comfortable with them again as I am with…"

"Ssshh," Methos said gently as he cupped her chin to meet his gaze. His smile was warm and sent tingles through her that she previously would have ignored. "You will. You'll go home and you'll fight monsters, and you'll see your friends and you'll belong again. I guarantee it. This isn't goodbye forever Buffy. I will see you again. I'll make sure of that."

"I just…" she bit her lip, not wanting to give him too much hope, but needing him to know that suddenly she trembled when he touched her in a way that she hadn't in so long. "I don't want to leave you. I…"

"I know." Methos cut her off, his voice strangled slightly. "Buffy you don't have to…I know."

"I guess I just want to say thank you." She finally managed to say, as the wind whistled through her hair. "I…I know, it was Duncan that put that together and all, but you…everything you've done for me since the beginning…thank you."

"We should get home." Methos said as he reluctantly stepped back from her and headed towards the driver's side of his Range Rover.

Buffy nodded and said no more and the rest of the drive was spent in silence.

Inside the apartment, she went through the motions of readying herself for bed, but when it came down to time to sleep, she found it impossible. After tossing and turning for an hour or so, she found herself waking once more and heading towards the living room to watch some TV.  
She nearly bumped into Methos as she did so. He looked at her in surprise at first, but then found himself chuckling softly. She did too.

"Great minds think alike." She told him, remembering the phrase her mother used to use every time they ordered the same chocolate Sunday at McDonalds when she was a kid.

"Fools seldom differ," Methos added. She grinned and made her way over to the couch.

Methos was struck by a wave of tenderness as he watched Buffy perch herself on the couch, and tuck her legs under as she sat down. Our last night…

With a small sigh, he sat down next to her and reached for the remote.

Within moments, she was pressed up against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his just-out-of-the-dryer t-shirt as they watched some bad music videos together, neither really paying much attention. She could smell the scent of his skin, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and everything was right at that moment. He was warm, human and solid. Nothing could touch her, or harm her. She had her friend to hold her close as she closed her eyes.

Methos watched with quiet reverence as the slayer drifted off in his arms, struck by the depth of his feelings for her. She felt perfect nestled up against him, as if she was meant to be there. He knew it was too much to hope she felt the same, but he allowed himself to imagine what it might be like to curl up together one day in bed, as equals, as lovers.

Tonight though he was content to be her friend. He was content to pretend that nothing existed beyond this night. He was content to fall asleep once more to the tv droning softly in the background, waiting for day to approach.


	38. A Rose In My Book

Author's Note: The lyrics at the bottom (as well as the chapter title) are from a song by Alan Frew, off of his second album titled "Wonderland". All standard disclaimers apply for the borrowing of them.

The bus station was noisy, crowded, and incredibly large. It was the perfect place for an immortal to hide out from a foe, but a very poor place for two good friends to say good-bye.  
All around them Buffy watched various friends and loved ones either embracing one another in excitement, or saying their tearful farewells. She felt an empathy for those saying good-bye and an envy for those eagerly embracing one another. There would be nobody waiting for her at the Sunnydale Bus terminal, and depending on how angry her friends and mom were, she knew it would be a long time before anybody would be throwing her a hearty welcome home party.

She knew it was something she deserved, but it didn't make the pill any less bitter to swallow.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Methos who walked beside her to her bus' platform. His face was neutral, and he didn't seem to be staring at anything in particular. She knew that meant he was trying to mask whatever he was feeling. He may be five thousand years old, but Buffy knew that you could only hide emotions to a point, no matter how old you were.

The idea that he was masking some deeper feelings gave her comfort. There would be no welcome home party, but neither would there be a 'yay she's gone party'. That helped.

"Are you hungry?" Methos was asking her. "You didn't really have anything breakfast related before we left."

"Oh no, actual food right now would be a no-no." She replied with a slight grimace. "I've got caffeine, that should tied me over till I get back."

"Are you sure?" He asked, his frown deepening. She found herself smiling at the image.

"Yes mom, I'll be fine." She chided. Methos looked a tad chagrined.

"Sorry, I don't really do normal good-byes." He shrugged somewhat helplessly. "When it comes to immortals, good-byes are never permanent because you know that you'll likely run into that same person at some point in the future, be it a hundred years or a hundred days. Either that, or the good-bye will involve a sword and a very unpleasant outcome."

"Well I won't live a hundred more years, and I'm not going to take your head, so we'll have to do this the ordinary mortal way."

"You're not an ordinary mortal." He spoke softly, but there was a tenderness in his tone that caught her off guard.  
"I'm pretty standard fare as far as slayers go." She replied with a modest shrug. He gave her a faraway smile.

"I'm not grading on a curve."

"Look Methos…" she paused, trying to figure out what it was she meant to say. "Let's not, OK? We already did the Hollywood-ish good-byes last night. We had the tears, the alcohol, and the cake. I don't really want to go back there OK?"

"Fair enough." Methos said with a resolute nod. "So how do you want to do this then? No tears, and no cake. I can't promise I won't have a beer when I get back home though…"

"Just….shake my hand and wish me good luck, OK?" Her voice sounded small, against the din and bustle of the busy bus station. His smile faltered slightly, but he nodded his assent.

"Can I possibly get a hug out of this arrangement?" He queried. He kept his voice light, so that she did not see the tired sadness that settled deep inside him. He had said good-bye to too many people in his life time and every time he did so, he lost a little bit of himself. Sometimes he wondered how much of himself was the guy that had existed as a mortal over five thousand years ago and how much was simply an amalgamation of all the people he had known and all the things he had seen. He'd lose part of himself when she left, but he would carry a bit of her around with him, just as he had done so with Celine. He wasn't sure if it was a fair trade, or a rip-off.

She was smiling warmly at him, bringing his mind back to his original question. Her bus pulled up behind them as she opened her mouth to answer.

"A hug I can do."

Methos leaned forward and embraced her gently at first, and then with a fierce determination to hold onto her just a little bit longer. People were already filing onto the bus and he knew he only had a few minutes with her left.

"This isn't forever you know." He told her firmly when they finally parted. He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her of that or himself, but it felt better to say it. "You can always come back to visit, for vacation, whatever. Anytime you like."

"Slayers don't really get a vacation." She said with a shrug. Her tone was casual, but the statement was laden with emotion. Methos could feel it reverberating off her. He didn't think she would ever get over the fury of being forced into a violent and short life. He was glad of that. Slayers were one of the cruelest ironies…children that never got to be children, adults that would never grow up. The shortest lived slayers tended to be the ones who accepted their fate to die young without question, who believed wholeheartedly in whatever their watcher's told them and trusted in them to keep them alive. Buffy loved her watcher, that he could see, but she would never see the logic or the sanity in the slayer legacy. She would fight for the lives of those around her because it was right, not because it was a birthright. And that, he knew would keep her alive. It was what set her apart.

He wanted to tell her this, to make her understand that her unwillingness to just accept her own mortality was what would ultimately prove her to be the strongest in the end, but he kept silent. She would not understand it fully. Not yet. When she did, Methos hoped he would be somewhere near by to see it.

"No vacations…" he tailed off with a sad smile. "Right."

"Maybe you could come to Sunnydale to visit me," she offered halfheartedly. "I mean, it's not that far from Seacover."

"Immortals don't really venture onto the hellmouth," Methos told her with a grimace. "It's not exactly good vibes there."

"So….this is good-bye then." She was firm, but not angry. "You don't have to lie to me Methos. If we'll never see each other again…I can handle that."

"I'm immortal." Methos stated. "The word never does not exist for me."

"And the word forever does not exist for me," she countered sadly. "We're kind of a contradiction."

"That's why I like you slayer," Methos said with a chuckle. "But I really do believe we'll see each other again. I do. If not here, then…somewhere. If you ever find yourself in Paris, look me up. I have a home there as well."

"Paris huh?" Her voice was wry, disbelieving and Methos knew that she didn't believe she'd ever make it out of Sunnydale again. He wished he could tell her just how deeply he knew in his soul that that was not the case, but she wouldn't believe it until she saw it. He would have to wait.

"We'll keep in touch." He said firmly. "Now get on that bus before it leaves without you."

Buffy turned to go, but found herself unable to do so without telling him how she really felt. Knowing she would be walking away from him, maybe for the last time was too much. She had to make sure he knew…

Turning back, she faced him, trying desperately to stick to her own rules of no tears or Hollywood good-byes.

"Before you go…the other night when you…when you kissed me…"

"We've been over that," Methos said with a dismissive wave. He wouldn't look at her. "Don't worry about it."

"But I want to," she told him quietly. His head snapped to alert and his eyes registered surprise before he could hide them. "I…I meant what I said before about it being too soon. I still…whenever I look at you, I still think of him. But…I also know that there's something there. I don't know what, or why, but…maybe someday…if I see you again, we can figure out what? I'm not asking you to wait or anything crazy like that, I just want you to know that…I thought about it. And someday it might not be as scary as it is now. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," he whispered hoarsely. He felt as if he had just won the lottery. "Thank you."

"See you later Methos." She murmured as she stepped onto the bus where the driver waited, foot tapping impatiently.

Methos watched, with a surprisingly light heart as the bus pulled out of the station and faded out of his line of sight. He stood there until nothing more could be seen of it, until finally turning away and heading for home.

Tonight he would go to Joe's rather than face the emptiness of his apartment. He would do his best to get so drunk he could barely stand and then hopefully pass out into an alcohol saturated oblivion.

Once the hangover wore off, he would continue on as he had before, a little older, a bit different but still living. Still surviving. It was what he did best. He would miss her, but she'd be back. He allowed himself a smile, before the buzz of a nearby immortal hit him and he was forced to look towards the offending party stepping off a bus.

It was a girl, approximately the age of twenty. She looked to be running from something, probably her first death. She was new. He could feel it. No, he thought to himself as he kept walking. All I want today is a drink.

The End

There was a girl  
I saw in a dream  
Rowing a boat  
Across the sea  
Me waiting for you  
You waiting for me  
I broke a glass  
And I took the key  
I risked it all for you  
The right to win or lose  
Heaven knows I stole more than I took

But I'll always  
Put a rose in my book  
For you  
Put a rose in my book

And there was a time  
When I had to be strong  
Now I need a little faith  
To carry on  
I watch the black cars  
Line up in the rain  
Though not alone  
The billboard said

I gave my love, my life  
Oh but there's nothing left to fight for  
Baby love's the road I took

But I'll always put a rose in my book  
For you  
Put a rose in my book

I played along  
Just like a Romeo in rags  
It's up to you now  
We would sit for hours in the kitchen by the window drinking coffee from a silver spoon  
Under a silver moon

I gave my love, my life  
Oh but there's nothing left to fight for  
Baby love's the road I took  
Put a rose in my book  
Put a rose in my book  
For you  
For you  
For you  
For you  
"A Rose In My Book"

-Alan Frew


End file.
